


Human is beautiful, perfect is boring

by Ecchima, TheBuggu



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Also Hanzo is oblivious af, Cooking, Domesticity, Drama Queen Hanzo, Fluff, Hanzo is being an ass, Hanzo steals the hat !, Hospitalization, M/M, Model AU, Modeling AU, Mondatta only wanted to help and is confused, Reyes is an ass, Reyes speaks spanish, Slow Burn, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and Genji is adorable, and it's painful !, angst will come, best wingman Genji, but he has good reasons, it's a mchanzo fic so they eat ramen, lots of fluff, model omnic, moovie night, please stop being such an ass based on first impressions, self concious McCree, the angst is here !, tw for a car crash, we made it sad but in a funny way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-08-19 04:56:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8191003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ecchima/pseuds/Ecchima, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBuggu/pseuds/TheBuggu
Summary: Jesse McCree a.k.a. James McMilan has everything for himself: beauty, success, a nice motorbike and many friends. He is one of the most popular models of the moment with his charming smile, tailored suit and perfect appearance. Everybody loves him!...Except his co-worker, the handsome Hanzo Shimada who refuses to even look at him.You can imagine Jesse's surprise when one day, that same Hanzo Shimada approaches him at the bar of a club where he was enjoying his whiskey...





	1. Mind if I Sit Here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, thank you for clicking on this here fic and welcome to a world of fluff, angst, comedy and tragedy where all that glitters isn't gold! This au idea belongs to TheBuggu, and we decided to co-write it since we are both busy bees !  
> Beside us, no one beta'd this fic so if something sounds weird, please let us know in the comments !

Jesse McCree sits at the bar, a half drunken glass of whiskey in his hands. He had a rough day at work again; another day of demanding and exhausting work mixed with a co-worker that did not like him. He runs a hand through his brunette hair--messy and unkept--and sighs, absentmindedly starting to scratch his cheek where the makeup had irritated his skin to the point of drying up. He would have to buy better cosmetic products soon to avoid looking like a control panel.

Lifting his shot glass, he eyes the whiskey, frowning at the dull amber glow of the alcohol. He then shifts his gaze to the overhead digital advertising banner wedge behind the bar counter. The model in the picture was reclining in a chair, legs propped on a desk. A glass of the advertised beer in his hands. The model’s hair was slicked back in a neat and tidy manner, with a striped trilby on his head, sunglasses covering his eyes, and his lips pulled into a suave little grin with a cigar hanging from the corner of his mouth.

He remembers that photo shoot all too well.

‘ _James, straighten out your legs_ ,’ they said. ‘ _Don’t lean so much in the chair. Now lean a little more._ ’ ‘ _Too much_.’ ‘ _Not enough_.’

It was amazing how picky someone could be about the position of a pair of legs.

After a few minutes of brooding in his own little world, the bar’s bell jingles as someone enters, pulling McCree out of his reverie. He glances over to the doorway and freezes. He could feel surprise and dread lump together in his throat. Hanzo Shimada, McCree’s co-worker and one of the most popular models of the moment, had apparently decided he needed a drink too. He couldn’t blame him, their photoshoot had been particularly tiring that day…

Of course, McCree had tried (again) to flirt with Hanzo in an attempt to make him open up a bit and make their work a little more enjoyable but as usual, the man had barely looked at him, let out a snobbish “humpf” and walked away. Every time they had worked together, McCree tried to strike up a conversation but Hanzo just ignored him, aside from giving him a brief glare; preferring the company of his brother, Genji Shimada.

McCree fidgets in his seat, wishing Hanzo would sit as far away from him as he could or, even better, leave the bar. If there is one thing Jesse McCree hates more than anything, it’s to cross paths with someone from his work life when he’s enjoying his private life. It had happened with Genji before--but after a few encounters with the green-haired rockstar, McCree felt at ease with the younger Shimada. He was more open about the demeanour that he had to hide on set at the demand of his producer; the freckles, his southern accent, and even his cherished hat.

McCree watches Hanzo eying the room carefully, his eyes hidden behind cheap sunglasses and his hair partially tied back in a ponytail. When his gaze falls on him, McCree’s heart misses a beat. He was trapped, condemned to hear Hanzo’s mockery of his ragged look, ready to have to fly out the door and run back home at the first remark. But instead of making fun of him, Hanzo _smiles_. Taken aback, McCree slowly tips his hat, trying to return the smile and failing.

Then Hanzo approaches him. It makes Jesse nervous. It confuses him even more when the other man willingly takes a seat directly beside him.

“Saké, please,” Hanzo requests to the bartender--who had been shining a whiskey glass with his apron--and gracefully sits down.”You don’t mind if I sit here, do you?” he asks and stares at McCree intently.

It takes approximately five seconds to McCree to remember how to breathe. “I-I don’t mind none.” He drawls, his accent getting thicker the more nervous he gets. “Sit where ya like.”

Hanzo flashes another handsome smile. “I do not recall seeing you around here before. Are you new to the city?”

Jesse wonders if he’s being teased or not. But then he quickly remembers, in all the time he’s worked with Hanzo, the other man has never been the joking type. He bumps the tip of his hat back and shakes his head innocently. “Nah. Been here a while, but don’t get out often. Busy with work. Ya know?”

Hanzo nods in agreement. When the bartender brings him a glass of rice wine, he thanks him and takes a sip. “Ah. Yes. I do.” Hanzo’s dark brown eyes glances up to the digital ad and he scowls before adding a distinct, “I know it too well.”

“Sounds t’me like you don’t much like yer work.” McCree chuckles nervously.

“I enjoy the work,” Hanzo replies back. “It is the...environment I do not care for.” He swirls the drink in his hand a few times as he continues, “It sounds farfetched, but I work at LME productions. It is a very desired agency to work with.”

Now, Jesse just feels stunned by the admission. Judging by the way Hanzo talks, Jesse is pretty sure he doesn’t recognize him. He feels a bit hurt, they have known each other for a little more than a year now and even if they never talked--not that Jesse didn’t try--he thought that if his looks didn’t give him away, at least Hanzo would pick on his voice. Like Genji had.

Jesse takes a big gulp of his drink and wonders if he should try to play ignorant with Hanzo. The man doesn’t seem as repulsed as he usually is, casually sipping his saké next to him.

“It doesn’t sound too farfetched at all,” he starts, mentally hitting himself with a stick for what he’s about to say, “a handsome fella like you being a model. Definitely look the part. Like ya jumped right outta a fashion magazine,” he finishes, his accent getting even thicker with embarrassment.

Jesse watches with wonder as Hanzo’s cheeks take a light pink hue and he chuckles at the flattery.

“I would call you out for your presumptuous comment but it is true… I am in the lastest fashion magazine.” McCree can’t believe his eyes. Hanzo Shimada looks _sheepish_. And then Shimada laughs again and props his cheek against his left arm. “But enough about me. Tell me about yourself.”

Jesse winces and makes a nervous laugh. “Well...uh...Mister…?”

“Hanzo. Hanzo Shimada,” he answers and grins so suavely at McCree; he can feel his ears burn.

“My work ain’t excitin’ like yours I bet,” McCree answers and stiffly pulls at his collar. “As crazy as it sounds, I’m...uh...I...do sound check for several bands.”

Hanzo hums in between sips. “Ah. So you are a man of talents, then?”

McCree chuckles awkwardly. “I guess so?” He lifts his hat up and scratches the nape of his neck until it hits him. “Aw, shoot! Didn’t give ya my name! Sorry ‘bout that. Name’s Jesse. Jesse McCree. And yeah, yeah...Get all the John Wayne and Eastwood jokes out of the way. Not like I’ve never heard ‘em before.”

“I could not, even if I wanted to. I do not know much about cowboys and Westerns.” Hanzo pauses to take a sip of his drink again, eyes twinkling brightly. He smiles as he quickly adds, “Besides, I like your name.”

“But you don’t like my father’s,” McCree mouths bitterly in his drink. When he had first been presented to Hanzo under his modeling alias--James McMilan--the man had raised a critical eyebrow, refusing to shake his hand.

When he puts his empty glass back on the counter, McCree finally notices that Hanzo is still staring at him, a smug smile on his lips and his expression is intensely intrigued.

“Do I have like, ketchup on my beard or somethin’ ?” He asks, feeling self conscious again.

“You do not,” Hanzo answers after taking a sip of his saké. “I was just thinking of how it is nice to be in the presence of a real person.”

“What do you mean?” McCree asks, raising an eyebrow.

Hanzo sighs and for the first time since he walked into the bar, his warm expression sours. “In my line of work, you encounter a lot of deception. At times, there is a lack of sincerity.” He turns his gaze back onto the alcohol advertisement with ‘James McMilan’. “Photo manipulation, make-up. Perfection is not a thing humanity was meant for, and yet we constantly strive for it. Bah.”

McCree thinks he might start to understand Hanzo a bit. When he had started his job years ago, his producer had picked him up for his southern charm. But as soon as he started to get noticed and grew some popularity, he had been asked to change his name, his language and his posture. James McMilan changed from a name on a contract, into a fleshed out human being. No country twang, hair kept neat and tidy, only the best of makeup and tailored suits, and even hazel colored contacts to make the eyes really pop out.

And yet, here was Jesse McCree--dull, brown eyed, messy haired, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans with a stupid cowboy hat atop his head--chatting up with the gorgeous Hanzo Shimada: The same man who had completely shut down in the face of James McMilan.

“Tell me, Mister McCree. Do you like ramen?”

Jesse gives a small, innocent smile. “The microwavable stuff?”

Hanzo Shimada makes a disgusted snort. “No! The _real_ kind of ramen. That settles it then. I must take you out to try some.” McCree watches as Hanzo pulls out a pen from the inside of his jacket and starts to write on a nearby napkin. “Here. Take this,” Hanzo says, giving the napkin to him before leaving a few bills on the table. “I must go, but it has been an enjoyable evening. I look forward to seeing you again.”

McCree watches (and definitely does _not_ check Hanzo’s ass) as the man walks back to the door. Before leaving, Hanzo looks over his shoulder and waves at him. McCree waves back and keeps staring at the door even after Hanzo left. He slowly raises his hand and pinches himself.

Hanzo fucking Shimada just _waved_ at him. He wants them to go out _together_ to eat. McCree looks down at the napkin Hanzo gave him. There’s a phone number there, written neatly with a winky face next to it, and signed with Hanzo’s name in cursive.

McCree pinches himself again, just to make sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, guess what happens next chapter ? *wink wonk*
> 
> Thank you for reading and don't worry, the next chapter is already written ! We just want to take our time writting so we can go back and change things if we need to ! As always, feedback is appreciated :)


	2. Better than the Microwavable Stuff?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo told McCree he would take him on a date to eat real ramens, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone ! We decided to deliver the second chapter a little sooner than we had originally planned, yay! Thank you for all the kudos and comments on the previous chapter, I hope this will be worth the wait!
> 
> Btw, the ramen restaurant is called "Rumplings" so don't be too surprised to see this word coming out of nowhere o/

Jesse looks at his collection of clothes splayed out in front of him. It’s the first time in his life he has to make an effort to _not_ look so nice.

He had spent the last 3 weeks texting Hanzo following a very awkward first call, the night after the man had given him his phone number. McCree had been surprised to discover that Hanzo actually has a great sense of humor hidden behind his serious face. They had talked a lot about casual stuff: their favourite movies, which video games they had when they were younger and which ones they still liked to play (Hanzo mentioned owning every pokemon game ever which is very impressive considering there is more than a hundred of them). At some point, Hanzo had asked him if he knew how to play the banjo and McCree had sent him a recording of the only time he had touched the darn thing. It had been bad enough that Hanzo had stopped answering for an hour, apologizing afterwards that he was “laughing too hard to hold his phone”.

And then, without notice, Hanzo sent him a text to ask when his next free day was so they could come to the ramen restaurant. McCree had nearly spat out his drink when he realized Hanzo was being entirely serious about treating him to dinner. Which had been really awkward considering that the man was sitting only a few feet away from him at the time, both in the modeling agency’s common room. Hanzo had even watched him cough with disdain for several minutes, clutching his phone in his hands.

McCree’s phone starts buzzing, pulling him out of his train of thought. He sighs, takes his phone and nearly gets a heart attack when he sees that he got a text from Hanzo, telling him that he’d be arriving a little earlier than anticipated. McCree looks at the time again then at himself in his big mirror. He’s still in his boxers.

“C’mon McCree, you’ve done this before! Keep it simple!” He mutters as he picks up one of his nicest shirts, a black and beige flannel one with rolled up grey sleeves.

He then considers his waistcoats. He certainly wouldn’t wear that if he had to go out by himself. Besides, Hanzo prefers simple people. Probably. He doesn’t like superficial but would he like him if he decided to wear nicer clothes?

After a while, McCree finally decides not to take the risk and just picks a nice pair of grey jeans. He looks at himself in the mirror again and frowns. Now he looks _too_ casual. This is their first date and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been waiting impatiently for it. He hesitantly reaches for a pair of white suspenders and puts them on.

“I must admit, Jesse McCree, you’re lookin’ mighty fine,” he says with a grin, shooting a finger gun at his reflection.

He passes a hand through his slicked back hair from the shower and messes it up. He checks his beard, making sure it doesn’t look too wild and wets his thumb before passing it over his bushy eyebrows.

Jesse looks at himself one more time before taking a deep breath, putting his boots on and taking his leather jacket.

“Rumplings, here I come!”

* * *

 

 

Hanzo can’t help but to chuckle at his brother’s enthusiasm as he slips his phone back into his blazer’s pocket. He won’t give Genji a reply just yet and let his energetic younger brother settle down for an hour or two; Hanzo does love giving Genj the occasional tease.

He had told Jesse to arrive at 10:30, and made sure to be there at least ten minutes prior to pick seats for himself and his date. He settled on a cozy little corner: two curved, wooden lounger-type chairs, with a slim table between them. Hanzo’s hair was pulled back into a lazy braid--being too exhausted from a long day at the photo shoot to put much effort into his appearance--and picked his favorite red striped sweater.

The distinct sound of...jingles catches Hanzo’s attention as his date approaches. He looks up and is greeted by a nervous looking Jesse McCree standing in the doorway, dressed in a homely looking flannel top and white suspenders. The same cowboy hat is sitting on his head. And his choice of shoes are black boots with spurs on them. All in all, Hanzo can feel his heart melting at such a handsome sight.

“Heyya, Hanzo!” the already all too familiar voice--and one that Hanzo enjoys hearing--rings out through the ramen shop. The unexpected booming and excited voice is enough to make the chef harrumph. McCree’s hands are tucked into his pockets as he shyly saunters over and shoots the chef an apologetic glance. He then turns his attention back to Hanzo and nods down at him. “Uh...Howdy. Almost didn’ think this was the right place.”

Hanzo leans forwards, placing his head in his hand. “And what could possibly make you think that?” he asks, a sly smile on his lips.

McCree’s cheeks take a redder hue as he lifts a hand to scratch his neck. “Dunno. The place seems a bit small from the outside? I almost missed it.”

Hanzo chuckles. “It is true. But it is exactly why I like this place. No paparazzi can follow me here without being noticed.”

“So you come here often then?” McCree asks as he pulls a chair and sits down in front of him.

“I eat here with my brother when we can. He too has a tight schedule, especially at night. It can be difficult to have free time with our lifestyles.”

McCree hums and Hanzo sits straighter. He really likes the sound of the cowboy’s voice when he does that. It’s a low, soothing rumble that makes Hanzo relax considerably. He watches as McCree takes off his hat and puts it on the nearby chair. The man’s hair looks so soft, Hanzo has to stop himself before he can reach out and touch it.

A loud giggle from a teen a few booths away draws their attention. The kid is pointing at McCree, a hand covering his mouth and making little efforts to hide his laughter. What Hanzo believes to be his mother pops her head out of the booth and she shoots them a sympathetic smile before retreating back to her seat. Hanzo hears her snort before she tells her son not to point at strangers. He shoots a glare in their direction, making the teen shut up and shift uncomfortably in his seat.

When Hanzo looks back, he’s surprised to find McCree with his hat back on his head, a hand hiding his face to the rest of the restaurant. Despite his big frame, the man looks small and uneasy.

“M’sorry. I knew I shoulda dressed more casually, I didn’t mean ta embarrass you or anythin’,” McCree drawls, his accent getting thicker.

“You do not need to apologize for putting efforts in your appearance. Besides, I like a man in suspenders.”

Nothing in the world could compare to the beauty of the soft smile McCree shoots him. “Thank you, Hanzo. I think you look dazzling too.”

The soft tone and soothing twang of McCree’s voice makes Hanzo’s heart beat faster in his chest and he wonders for a moment what it would feel like to hear that voice whisper in his ear.

Hanzo gestures to the menu waiting on the tabletop and picks it up. “If you are not sure which ramen to try, perhaps I could offer a suggestion?”

McCree whistles once he sees the long list of different varieties of ramen. “Well, shoot. Never realized there was more to this then just noodles in some broth.” His brows furrow as he studies the names. “Sho...yu. Tonkatsue…?”

“Tonkotsu,” Hanzo corrects, still smiling. “It’s a type of ramen made with pork bones. It can be a bit heavy to digest so I would not recommend it for a first try.”

Hanzo watches as McCree buries his face behind the menu, muttering ramen bowl names as he reads them. Once he reaches the last dish, his head partially pops back up, hiding the lower half of his face.

“An’ what would ya suggest me to eat then?” McCree asks, his tone sheepish.

Hanzo’s smile widens as he looks down on the menu, looking for the dish he thought McCree would like best. “It is called Butter Corn. It is a pretty tame ramen, I promise.” He points to the menu, finger landing on the aforementioned ramen. “It usually has bean sprouts, the egg noodles, butter and corn with a slice of pork. It is a specialty from Sapporo, in the north of Japan.”

“Well, all I can say is that there ain’t anything I don’t like in it,” McCree smiles. “Sounds mighty delicious, Mister Shimada.” He winks and it’s enough to send a subtle shiver along Hanzo’s spine.

A few minutes later, the waiter comes to ask them about their order. Hanzo doesn’t hesitate and asks for miso ramen, his favorite. Jesse looks down at the menu to find back where Hanzo had pointed and places his order as well. The waiter takes note and bows slightly before going back behind the counter and leaving a note to the chef.

“So, while we wait,” Hanzo begins, staring intently at McCree, “why don’t we talk?”

“Sure! What d’ya wanna talk about?”

Hanzo smiles. “As I said, my brother Genji and I eat here several times a month. It reminds us both of our old life in Hanamura.” He sighs in reminiscence and shuts his eyes. “There was a local ramen shop near our home and we both would often sneak out to eat there. It did not please our father.”

Jesse nods as he listens--Hanzo swears he’s leaning closer in his seat--and taps his fingers on the tabletop. “If ya don’t mind me askin’, how did ya come to be here? I mean...it’s pretty far from Japan?”

It makes Shimada pause in consideration. And then his fingers intertwine as he clears his throat. “It is a long story, and it happened many years ago. My brother and I grew up in a _strict_ environment. I will spare you the details but our father trained us both from a young age so we could be able to take back the family business when he would no longer be capable of it himself.

I was ready to follow the path my father had traced for me but Genji was not. He started to rebel against the family, he stopped going to school and would come back home late at night. I did not know what to do at the time and we grew distant. I never asked him what he did of his days and he never tried to talk to me about it but one day, he came back home earlier than usual. He did not seem well so I asked him what had happened.”

Hanzo pauses and takes a deep breath. He never liked talking about his past, especially to strangers but he likes McCree and sees no harm in informing him.

“It didn’t go as well as you’d like, did it?” McCree asks with a gentle smile.

Hanzo sighs. “No, it did not. We had a fight. Easily the worst one we’ve ever had. He ended up locking himself in his room, and then he waited to storm off later that night. This time, I did the unthinkable and followed him. I reasoned with myself that if Genji was not going to tell me what was wrong, I would at least learn what he was doing at night. He had snuck off into what was considered the ‘punk rock’ district of Hanamura and there I saw him dressed up in full leather and a guitar on his back.” He pauses and shakes his head with a low chuckle. “I was not aware my brother even _knew_ how to play an instrument. But he walked into one of the clubs with some other young looking men, who were apparently waiting for him to arrive.”

“He played in a band?” McCree replies, still leaning closer onto the table.

He nods and smiles before he continues on with a, “And he still does. When I went inside the club, he was up on stage with the others, playing the guitar. He was very good at it. Energetic, waving to the crowd. I was impressed. And proud. So I watched the entire performance and congratulated Genji afterwards. He was...surprised, to say the least. He apologized for not telling me about it. He was afraid I would tell our father and he would have to quit. I assured him that I would never do such a thing and our relationship slowly mended.”

Hanzo chuckles. “I would definitely not be here if it was not for my brother. He told me that if you do not spend your life doing something you enjoy, then it would go to waste. We only live once, after all.”

“So, that’s why you picked modeling for your career?” Jesse asks, tilting his head to one side.

“Yes and no,” he answers, leaning forward. “After that night, I started to help my brother with his dream to become a pro guitarist. One day, I drove him to a photoshoot for a local magazine on rock bands in Hanamura. He was nervous and asked me if I could stay with him. Of course, I accepted and when the photographer came in, his eyes widened. I remember Genji joking about how big they were, as if the man had plates instead of eyes,” he jokes with a warm tone.

“Then the man walked away only to come back with the director of the agency. He stared at me before giving me his card. He said that with my face and build, I could easily become a model if I wanted to. Genji screamed excitedly ‘DO IT! JUST. DO IT!’ until I agreed to try.” He laughs. “You should have seen his face, it was priceless.”

“Your brother sounds like a fun guy to be around,” McCree murmurs with a grin and brushes his bangs from his eyes. Hanzo almost gets lost in the handsome brown shades.

“Perhaps you will meet him in the near future then,” Hanzo affirms with his own grin.  
He doesn’t miss the way McCree pauses. His eyes brighten in excitement; his hands ball into fists. His mouth hangs open. Finally, after a few moments, McCree clears his throat.

“So...uh...that means we’re gonna have a ‘next time’, darlin’?”

Hanzo smirks, with an ever-so-coy expression. “That was my intention.”

The waiter approaches with their orders, making Hanzo sit straight again and thanks the waiter in Japanese. McCree leans back in his chair, looking intensely at the bowl of ramen put in front of him. Both are a soft white color, with a stamp of tiny, blue dragons decorating the rims.

“So, hun…How am I supposed ta eat this?” Jesse asks after studying his bowl for a few seconds. He comically rotates the bowl and examines the ramen from all angles as his expression turns hesitant and confused.

“Like this,” Hanzo demonstrates as he grabs a pair of chopsticks and snaps them apart. He rubs the two sticks against one another. “I do this to make sure there isn’t any splinters,” he explains, watching McCree separating his chopsticks and do the same.

It takes a good couple of minutes to McCree to understand how to hold the chopsticks properly but when he finally manages to hold onto some of the noodles, he seems to enjoy the taste. Hanzo smiles and turns his attention towards his own food. He’s about to eat his noodles when McCree apologizes.

“M’sorry for all the noise,” he says, wiping at his face to get rid of the broth splashed there.

“You do not need to apologize. Slurping the ramen is considered good manners. It tells the chef he did an excellent job cooking the noodles!” Hanzo assures him and takes a mouthful of the noodles in. He skillfully pinches the ramen between his chopsticks as he quickly inhales them and uses the chopsticks to help pull the noodles along, making as much noise as possible.

They spend the next few minutes slurping down their ramen, but Hanzo watches McCree like a hawk and he casually reaches into his pocket. He slowly pulls out his phone and makes a few sniffles. “Ah, excuse me. I must go blow my nose.”

McCree looks confused, but with a mouthful of noodles hanging down, he can only nod in understanding and goes back to eating.

Hanzo quickly gets up from the table and makes his way to the restrooms. He stops in the doorway and glances back at McCree. He chuckles at how concentrated the other man is on his meal--how he struggles to hold the chopsticks and slurp his noodles--and uses the opportunity to take a few pictures on his cell phone. He studies the results and settles on the best looking one: McCree’s cheeks are puffed out, long strands of noodles are slipping out of his mouth, and his spoon had fallen back into the bowl of ramen. He sends the picture to Genji and sets it as the contact picture for ‘McCowboy’, trying not to laugh too hard.

When he gets back to the table, McCree makes a happy sound in between slurps. Hanzo joins him and resumes eating his ramen. They sit together in silence, aside from the slurping and the background noise from the restaurant, but it is the comfortable silence of adults enjoying their meals.

When he’s done, Hanzo wipes at his mouth elegantly and catches McCree staring. He smiles, leaning forward and resting his hand midway across the table suggestively. McCree is too preoccupied by Hanzo’s eyes to notice it, though.

“So, tell me, cowboy. How was real ramen compared to the ‘microwavable stuff’?” he asks teasingly.

“Better than finding a lake of water in the hot desert, darlin’,” McCree answers, with a shy smile. It’s a strange idiom, but a charming one.

Hanzo returns a smile of his own and flips his braided lock back over his shoulder. “I assume that’s a good thing.”

It’s then when Jesse McCree winks. “It is. A man can die if he gets too thirsty.”

Hanzo can feel his cheeks heat up and his smile grows even wider. “I suppose that is true.” Hanzo’s voice cracks as he struggles to keep his composure. He coughs. “It is getting late, my brother certainly will not let me rest until I tell him everything so, I suppose we should go…”

McCree nods and moves to grab his wallet in his jacket’s interior pocket but Hanzo puts his hand on the cowboy’s arm, effectively stopping him.

“I invited you here, so it is my treat. I insist.” He can tell McCree is not happy with Hanzo’s offer but he stands his ground and doesn’t give McCree a chance to argue. The man pouts, defeated. Hanzo thinks it makes him look cute.

“Then, let me invite you next time. We can eat a specialty from my homeland.”

“From Texas?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

McCree grimaces. “I’m from New Mexico.”

“Ah, my mistake!” Hanzo apologizes with a sincere bow of the head. “We can discuss the details later on. I need to head back before my brother hounds after me.”

“Sure thing, darlin’. I’ll text ya.”

They put their coats back on and Hanzo goes to the counter to pay. He compliments the chef in Japanese then joins McCree in front of the restaurant. He follows Jesse to a nifty looking motorcycle, a black chopper model with the word _Deadlock_ airbrushed on its sides in a bright red accompanied by a white head skull with wings and a lock. The moon is hanging high above them, bright and full and shining down on the pair.

“I did not peg you as a rider,” Hanzo admits as he studies the motorcycle and watches as McCree straddles on it.

“Well,” McCree begins, smirking in pride as he lovingly strokes the handle bars, “Delilah here is what I consider my electric horse. Every cowboy needs a trusty steed.”

“I see.” Hanzo can feel his cheeks rise in temperature. He bites against his finger for a moment, until he goes against his better judgement. He can feel his adam’s apple bob when he swallows down his nervousness as he reaches out for Jesse’s shoulder. Hanzo steps forward and dips his head closer, pressing a quick and chaste kiss to the other man’s cheek. He can feel McCree’s beard tickle his lips and butterflies form in his stomach.

Jesse McCree turns a definitive shade of crimson and freezes up from the contact.

“Perhaps...you can take me for a ride sometime?” Hanzo mutters against the red scruffy cheek.

The other man can only nod; weakly and slow. He can hear him swallow and feel him breathe.

Hanzo bites his bottom lip and pulls away, brushing his fingertips against McCree’s cheek in a ghosting caress. “Tonight was really nice. I look forward to our next outing.”

It makes him giggle to hear only a stammered and mushed strain of words from a incoherent McCree.

“Drive safe, Jesse,” Hanzo says with a warm tone. He gives the other man a wave and turns away to walk to his own parked car. He waits to be inside and out of sight to retrieve his cell phone.

He chuckles in amusement when he sees there are four new texts and one missed call, all from Genji. Hanzo starts the car without a single thought and continues to grin. It wouldn’t hurt his younger brother to wait to hear about the dinner in person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ಠvಠ) *wiggles eyebrows* ain't they cute ?
> 
> You might have already seen it but I drew the picture Hanzo took of Jesse eating! You can find it here : http://ecchima.tumblr.com/post/151309225665/i-made-this-little-sweaty-blushing-cowboy-for-the
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! I hope this wasn't too long, we got a bit carried away x)


	3. Some Silly Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone ! I forgot to mention it in the notes of the first chapter but the idea of Genji having a band and McCree being his soundcheck guy comes from this amazing fic : http://archiveofourown.org/works/7756717/chapters/17687380  
> If you have to time and haven't read it yet, please do! It's a really good fic !!!
> 
> Translations will be at the end of the chapter o/

The next morning, Gabriel Reyes--James McMilan’s manager-- sent a text to McCree, asking him to show his pretty face in his office at 8 a.m. sharp. But since McCree had spent almost all the night thinking about his dinner date with Hanzo, it was an understatement to say he had overslept. By over an hour.

McCree rubs his face as he opens the door and steps inside Reyes’ office. He’s spared any immediate lecture, seeing that Gabriel is sitting at his desk and arguing in a phone call. Angry bouts of Spanish flies from his mouth as he taps on the wooden surface several times, black eyes full of rage.

He wants to turn tail and back out of the room, but the instant Reyes locks eyes with him, he snaps to make sure McCree is paying attention. His finger points to the chair in front of the desk as the scowl on his face deepens. McCree swallows anxiously and nods as he slinks forward in shame.

Jesse can hear it now: “ _¿Donde diablos estabas? ¿Que te tomó tanto tiempo?_ ”

It’s when he hears a distinct, “Bueno ya veremos, boy scout.” that McCree knows he’s gonna be chewed out. He only refers to one person as ‘boy scout’; Jack Morrison a.k.a. Hanzo Shimada’s manager.

McCree freezes in his chair when Reyes slams his phone down. “You know what, my clock must be broken.” Gabriel’s expression is a mixture of irritation and rage. “I could have sworn I told you to be here at--what was it?--Eight. A.M. Precisely.” There’s a distinct and ominous creak as Reyes leans back in his seat, casting his furious gaze directly at him. “And now it’s nine in the morning.”

McCree groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I overslept a bit. I didn’t mean no harm.”

“Any,” Gabriel quickly corrects him. “¿Inglés no es mi primer idioma, como demonios lo hablo mejor que tu?”

Jesse’s head rolls to one side as he scratches his neck. “Yeah...yeah…M’sorry. I know, I have to be here bright and early each and every day. Ya’ve only told it to me a hundred times.” _More like a hundred milion_ , Jesse adds mentally.

“Anyway, ingrate,” Gabriel’s voice rumbles on, “Just had a quick discussion with everyone’s favorite little boy scout. You’ve got a collab coming up with Shimada, again.”

“A’right.” McCree immediately perks up at the mention of Hanzo.

“I want you to start a diet for it. It’s going to be a shirtless ad.” Reyes looks down at Jesse’s belly. “You took on some pudge over the years, cabrón. You need to work it off before you end up too fat to move your pretty ass around.”

“Aww, Gabe, please,” Jesse whines and slumps over in his chair. “First you take away my accent, my name, my eye color. Now...my food? Yer killin’ me.”

Gabriel merely snorts and swivels his chair away. “You’ll live, McMilan. I’ll send you the details of your new diet and exercises. Now, go back to work and watch your accent!”

He frowns as he stands up from his chair, gives Reyes one last pout, and quietly walks out of the office. He brushes the disappointment away when several people say hello; a perfect men should always seem happy after all. He walks to his private break room, passing by several graphic artists working away on the company’s computers and some occupied photography rooms currently in session with many other models. Jesse--no, James--brushes his hand along his slicked-back bangs before he enters.

He goes to sit on his chair, in front of the big mirror that used to make him feel like a star of Hollywood when he notices a tuft of green hair.

McCree doesn’t flinch when he hears a “Hello, McWrap!” whispered behind him. He drags a hand down his face and rolls his eyes instead.

“What do you want, Genji?” he asks, turning to face the younger Shimada. The mischievous look on his face immediately worsening McCree’s mood.

Genji’s grin only grows as his eyebrows raises several times in a suggestive manner and he quickly pulls out his phone, with a small bird charm attached in its outlet. “Funny story actually. So, my brother had a date last night. From what I hear, it went _very_ well.”  

McCree rubs at his face. “Is that so? Well, good for him.”

Genji merely cackles and flicks his finger over the screen of his phone. “You tell me, Mister McCree,” he states and shows off a series of texts from...Hanzo. And attached at the very bottom is a picture of Jesse himself, sitting in the ramen restaurant from the previous night, failing to slurp his noodles.

He freezes. When had Hanzo taken this photo? “N-now...hold on.”

The younger Shimada has the biggest shit eating grin on his face.

“Genji!” McCree hisses and grabs at the other man’s collar. “You listen to me. Don’t ya dare even tell Hanzo.”

Genji looks so pleased with himself at McCree’s ire. “How has my brother not realized it’s you?”

“...Does that mean he still doesn’t recognize me then? Really?” Jesse quickly releases his shirt and blinks several times in surprise. “And--uh--ya…ya didn’t tell him?”

His green haired friend chuckles. “Nope and I won’t. Don’t worry, ‘Clark Kent’. If my brother becomes aware that I know _Jesse McCree_ , it will be because of our band history. Fair?”

Jesse relaxes instantly, letting out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “Fair.”

Genji looks back at his phone and chuckles. “Dude, you are terrible at eating ramen.”

He snorts. “I’d like ta see the first time ya had to use a knife. I’m surprised ya still have all of yer fingers.”

“Hey! I’ll let you know that I’ve always eaten neatly. Unlike a certain cowboy I know, _I_ have manners.” Genji stepped closer to whisper in McCree’s ear. “And from what I know, I’m better at romance as well.”

Jesse feels his cheeks burn with embarrassment. Just how much had Hanzo told Genji about their date?

Genji continues on, “By the way, my brother is nearly done with his page spread for that wolf sanctuary. You gotta see the outfit he’s gonna wear! You should come with me. I’m going to meet him on the set.”

Before McCree can politely decline, Genji is tugging on his arm and giving him the biggest puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen. He reflects back to Hanzo’s comments and wonders if this was the same tactic Genji used to convince his brother into giving modeling a try. He sighs and shuts the door behind them as he allows Genji to lead the way. He smiles at the distant coos from fangirls making hushed whispers about Green Sparrows’ lead guitarist and even a few directed at James McMilan.

It’s a few minute walk to the set Hanzo is using, but McCree doesn’t mind. He chats with Genji about new songs he and his band are writing and how the latest gig went. He makes sure to hide his accent again, in case someone overhears them and Reyes somehow learns about it. He thinks back to the diet and pulls a face. He checks his phone to find Reyes’ program for him and stops dead in his tracks.

“Are you alright, McWrap?”

“No meat.” Is all McCree can answer.

“What?”

He looks up to see a confused Genji. “Now, that’s just cruel.”

He starts walking again, showing his phone to his friend. “Reyes wants me to follow a diet because I’m ‘too pudgy’ for my next photoshoot with Hanzo. And there is no meat in it.” He takes Genji’s shoulder and looks at him in the eyes. “I’m a grown man, Genji, not a rabbit, I need some meat to survive.”

It isn’t until they arrive to the set that Genji replies. He elbows McCree in the gut lightly and whispers, “There are alternatives to meat you know.” He nods to a small group of people in the center of the room and winks. “Find a substitute.”

McCree is glad that he didn’t buy himself a coffee because if he had been drinking, he would have spit it out; though not only because of Genji’s comment.

Hanzo is in the middle of the group of people and he has to admit that he looks damn...appealing. The man sits on top of a handmade log with a forest scenery behind him. There is a very realistic white wolf pelt on his head, with long and thick strands of fur--braided into a single lock--traveling all the way down his back. He is dressed in an old set of armor. Eye-catching yellow marks decorate Hanzo’s arms and face.  
  
As the photographer gives direction, Hanzo props one arm on the fake log and the other against his knees. His intense gaze eyes the camera with amazing focus and he ignores any distraction.

McCree stares for a moment, taking it all in. He always thought Hanzo was quite the sight but it was nothing compared to this. He looks at the man’s white beard and hair and wonders if this is what Hanzo will look like in a few years. Beside him, Genji waves to his brother in greeting. Hanzo smiles and waves back but when his eyes lays on McCree, all the warmth drains from his expression and he scowls.

Jesse would usually brush it off and wink at him but after being allowed to share a drink and a meal with Hanzo, the distance between them stings. He tries to hide his discomfort with a smile and a wave, wondering how long he’ll be able to bear the difference of treatment.

“I told you the outfit was cool.” Genji grins, looking up at him. He frowns when he sees McCree's expression. “You alright McWrap?”

“Yeah, I’m fine…Could you give me Hanzo’s schedule? I said I would invite him for dinner next time.”

If Genji could shine, he would be as bright as the sun. “You already planned a second date? This is _so_ great! You can count on me, McWrap!”

Just as Genji finishes his sentence, Hanzo is walking towards them. McCree stands up straighter and watches as the other model approaches. He ignores Jesse completely as he greets his brother with a, “Genji. You are here earlier than you said you would be.” Hanzo adds a quiet mutter in Japanese.

“Hanzo, lovely seeing you here,” McCree murmurs, trying to sound as polite as possible. He thinks back to the fun they had at the ramen shop; the kiss following it.

The elder Shimada turns his nose in the air and doesn’t even grace him with a glance. “It is impolite for two _strangers_ to be so forward, McMilan.” The warm and affectionate tone that McCree remembers fondly is missing. “Therefore, it is Shimada-san to you.”

It takes a few more seconds to McCree to compose himself. He takes a deep breath and tries to keep his voice steady. “Sorry, Shimada-san. You still look lovely though.”

Hanzo immediately snorts. “Of course you would think that, considering the layers of makeup they put on me rivals what you wear on a daily basis.”

Even Genji looks taken back by the comment as Hanzo leaves the two to return to the set.

“Well,” This time, McCree’s voice cracks a bit and he coughs to try and hide it. “I should go prepare for my own photo shoot,” his voice trails off as he turns to leave.

Genji puts his hand on Jesse’s shoulder, effectively stopping him. “I’m sorry for his behaviour. I’ll try and talk to him.”

“S’fine. I know he hates my guts.”

The younger Shimada nods. “I understand why you want to keep things under wrap. I probably shouldn’t have insisted to take you here.”

“Nah, thank you for showing me this, Genji. He really is a sight for sore eyes.” Jesse laughs as he walks away.

It isn’t long afterwards that his phone vibrates silently and a new text from Hanzo is waiting. McCree opens the thread and his eyes widens. There, on his screen, is a picture of Hanzo from the set. He stares at it, incredulous. So James McMilan isn’t allowed to like him on set but Jesse McCree is apparently more than welcome to do so? That’s…

McCree’s train of thoughts is interrupted by another picture. This one seem to have been taken by the staff and features a grumpy looking Hanzo with two people dying and styling his hair. The message attached says: _I did not want to let them alter who I am but they insisted._

Jesse sighs as he types back a quick: _Looks good on ya darlin. Having fun?_ He doesn’t have to wait long to get an answer.

A simple text, saying: _yes._ ヾ（〃＾∇＾）ﾉ♪

McCree is surprised by the immediate difference in Hanzo’s personality and response, but he smiles and sends his own reply: _So, what’s the occasion anyway?_

Hanzo’s next text, however, takes a few minutes. _It’s going to be in a magazine article about a local wolf sanctuary that needs funding. I only compromised for the wolves._

It makes him grin before he types back: _Heh. I bet the wolves will be happy for it. I can hear them howling already! “Awoooo.”_

Hanzo only replies back with a (˘･ᴗ･˘) face.

McCree clears his throat as he resumes typing. _So...thinkin about our next date. How bout I cook u a nice dinner?_

_At your home? What did you have in mind?_ Hanzo doesn’t seem offput by the suggestion so McCree considers it a win.

_I was thinking I could make you some carne asada and biscochitos~_ He types back quickly. _And yes, at my house. If it doesn’t bother you._ He adds, after a thought: _I can pick you up on my bike? I promise I’m a good driver ;)_

McCree pauses, he would have to keep some of his casual clothes in his room and make sure no one sees him if he has to pick up Hanzo at the agency. It’s going to be a complicated day for him…Unless his day off and Hanzo’s are on the same day. He crosses his fingers.

After some time, he receives a message from Genji with Hanzo’s schedule. Unfortunately, Hanzo’s day off is on Monday while his is on Friday. He asks Hanzo if they can have their dinner on Friday and when the answer comes back positive, McCree swears he hasn’t felt this relieved in _years_.

As the week goes on, they exchange more and more texts, increasingly annoying the staff. Reyes seems to have guessed who’s on the other end of McCree’s affection and punishes him by making him work twice as hard. At the end of the week, Jesse is pretty sure the only thing that keeps him moving is the fact that he will be able to see Hanzo and talk to him in person without being treated roughly or--as in most cases-- ignored.

He starts his day off at 6 a.m. with Reyes’ ridiculously hard exercises: consisting of 50 crunches, 50 sit ups, 50 jumping jacks and an hour session of jogging. When he’s done, he takes a shower and changes. He then starts to clean his apartment and hides every beauty product he owns. He makes sure his home looks cozy and inviting. He’s glad he never liked expensive looking furniture because he’d have a hard time hiding _that_ from Hanzo.

Once everything is clean and presentable, McCree goes to the supermarket to purchase the meat and vegetables he’ll need for his menu. He carefully chooses only the best quality for each ingredient and comes back home, eating a veggie sandwich on the way. He unpacks his grocery bags; laying everything on the counter in front of him. He stares at the meat in front of him, drool pooling at the corner of his lips and loses track of time until he gets a text from Hanzo.

_I can’t wait for tonight_ (ﾉ≧∀≦)ﾉ

He’s about to answer when his phone slides from his hands and lands on the floor. McCree sighs and leans forward to get it back, hitting his head on the counter while doing so. He falls backwards, surprised and ends up on his ass, one palm pressed against his forehead, the other reaching for the phone and a line of curses escaping his mouth in spanish.

_And I can’t wait to see you, darlin’ <3 _McCree types back while rubbing the forming lump. The excitement makes his heart thrum wildly in his chest, forgetting his exhaustion.  

He starts whistling to the tune of The Ecstasy of Gold as he begins washing, cutting and marinating the meat and vegetables. Once he’s done, he sets the food inside his fridge, eager to see Hanzo’s face when he’ll cook everything in front of him. McCree rubs his hands together in glee as he makes the biscochitos. When they are ready to be baked, he goes to pick out his outfit for the night.

After a lot of hesitation between classy and cozy, McCree settles on cozy. He’s done classy for their last date and he needs to be able to move easily if he has to cook, anyway. So he picks up a comfy beige sweater and a pair of dark blue jeans, goes to the mirror to make sure he doesn’t look like a fool, passes a hand through his messy oaken locks and winks at his reflection.

McCree arrives at the agency’s parking lot twenty minutes early. If he could, he would surprise Hanzo by waiting right outside the man’s private room. He sighs and gets his phone instead, sending a quick text to his date. He fidgets as he lets Delilah idle, hands tightly balling around the handle bars.

“Just stay calm,” he whispers to himself over and over in a shy mantra. “No one comes here, no one’s gonna see you, just stay calm.”

But minutes pass without a reply from Hanzo, so he quickly turns the key and frowns. His fingers rhythmically tap against his bike’s dashboard as he waits.  Each passing minute seem excruciatingly long. This is the first time Hanzo hasn’t answered his text after five minutes and McCree can’t stop the thoughts that come clogging his mind.

_‘What if Hanzo had an accident?’, ‘What if he found out who I am?’_

That last thought makes Jesse freeze, the blood in his veins turning to ice and his stomach clenching.

_‘What if_ _he knew all along and_ _it is just a game to him?_ _’_ McCree holds himself in a desperate attempt to get rid of the cold inside of him when a more terrible thought comes to his mind. _‘What if he’s tired_ _of playing_ _?’_

McCree looks at his watch. Hanzo is fifteen minutes late. He takes a deep breath, getting back on Delilah, tears prickling at his eyes and his heart constricting in his chest. Hanzo is never late. McCree goes to put his helmet back on to take off as quickly as possible but his tears starts to blur his vision. He tries to dry them off but the more tears he dries, the quickest his eyes fill with new ones.

It’s then, when he’s about to break down, that he hears a door open and a rushed set of footsteps--sounding more like a jog or brisk walk--that makes him still. If there’s something he _really_ doesn’t need right now, it’s to be seen or worse, recognized.

“Jesse?” A familiar voice calls, “I am terribly sorry, I had forgotten that I would need to change after work. My batteries are dead, I had no way to contact you--Are you crying?”

Jesse had turned slowly while Hanzo apologized, the tears he couldn’t dry off earlier spilling out of his eyes as he looked at the man with disbelief. Hanzo slowly approaches him and lays a reassuring hand on Jesse’s shoulder.

“Are you hurt?” He asks softly, his dark brown eyes focusing on Jesse’s wet ones.

McCree chokes back another sob and quickly wipes face, not that it helps reduce the tears. “Sorry...It’s nothin’. I just had some silly thoughts.”

Hanzo’s hand moves from Jesse’s shoulder to lay on his scruffy cheek. The cowboy leans into the touch, warmth invading his body again. Everything feels perfect again, it feels right. Especially when Hanzo leans forward, entering Jesse’s personal space to lay kisses on each remaining tears on the cowboy’s face. They stay like this for a little while, content to just kiss and be kissed.

Jesse will forever deny the noise he makes when they part as Hanzo motions at Delilah with a flicker of his head.

“How about we continue this at your place, Jesse?” he asks, licking his own lips before they pull into a thin smile.

McCree feels himself go red, the heat radiating behind his cheeks both from the sentence and Hanzo’s glistening lips. He gulps and nods dumbly, opening the case on the back of his bike to reveal a leather jacket and a spare helmet.

He watches as Hanzo puts the jacket on over his marine sweater. It doesn’t quite fit him, McCree being rather huge but it’ll do it. He smiles at Jesse with a reassuring expression before the helmet obscures his face. Any belongings are secured away in the rear luggage compartment and Hanzo is quickly straddling the motorcycle as well. His arms wrap snug around Jesse’s abdomen and he spoons against his backside.

It takes all of Jesse McCree’s restraint to keep him from melting under such...intimate contact. Heat flushes his face--luckily his helmet covers his face now--and his body nearly sinks like a heavy statue thrown in water.

“Whenever you are ready,” Hanzo whispers sweetly behind him and rests his head along McCree’s shoulder blades.

McCree never turned Delilah’s key any faster and he feels like his heart is gonna explode during the entire ride back to his home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations :  
> Where the hell have you been? What took you so long?  
> Well we’ll see, boyscout  
> English isn’t my first language so why the hell do I speak it better than you?
> 
> ∠( ಠvಠ 」∠)＿ I hope you enjoyed this chapter, Buggu and I had a lot of fun writting it !!


	4. Not as Much Flavor as You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello o/ I just wanted to tell you that we picked the dishes for this chapter on wikipedia so the descriptions might not be very accurate !

After a fun drive from the modeling agency to McCree’s place, Jesse leads the way to his apartment with excitement written all over his face. It almost reminds Hanzo of an overly energetic, but cute, puppy.

The first thing Hanzo sees when he enters is a big couch, directly in front of a flat TV screen hanging on the wall. McCree puts his leather jacket on a coatrack and motions for Hanzo to do the same.

The apartment is in fact composed of two floors, Hanzo discovers. The first floor being the main living area. McCree doesn’t seem to have a table other than the american counter in front of the kitchen. The second floor is, in fact, a mezzanine giving access to four doors. The remaining sunlight comes in through a wall made out of glass in front of them. Hanzo can’t help but to admire how simplistic, but modern and practical the design looks. McCree pushes a button, flicking the lights on and giving the whole place a more cozy ambiance.

“Here’s my cave,” Jesse jokes, cracking a smile on his face.

 Hanzo smirks. “It is very nice.” He watches as Jesse takes his cowboy hat from the coatrack and puts it on his head.

"Well…Dinner’s not exactly ready yet so how about you watch me cook it for ya?”

Hanzo removes the jacket Jesse lent him and nods. “Very well.” His smile subtly twists into a sly expression as he cants his head and stares at the other man. “Since I told you more about myself during our last dinner, I would like to hear something about you in return.”

Jesse opens his fridge’s door and pulls out the pre-portioned and marinated foods, setting them on his countertop. “Fair enough, Mister Shimada.”

Hanzo merely watches McCree fumble around, gathering spices and pans to cook in, before he strolls after him and boldly takes the cowboy hat right off his head. “You should not block your vision while you cook.” Jesse immediately feels for his hat in surprise and sends Hanzo a confused glance. “Do not worry, I will take good care of it,” he adds with a wink and drops it on his own head. He likes how easy it is to make the other blush.

Hanzo then casually makes his way to one of the high stools facing the kitchen and takes a seat, gazing at McCree with a warm smile. His arms are crossed on the tabletop and his chin rests against them.

“Alright, alright,” McCree replies with a defeated hum and bows his head. “Just take good care of it, sugar.”Jesse returns a wink of his own. “So, what d’ya want to hear about?”

Hanzo hums, considering his options for a few seconds. “How did you become a soundcheck technician?”

Jesse programs his oven, sets the meat on his grill and checks his frying vegetables before turning to face Hanzo, leaning back on the counter.

“Actually, I don’t rightly remember how I got my guitar but I remember learnin’ how to play it. I used ta spend a lotta time in the streets as a kid ‘cause my Ma had to work as a waitress at a dirty ol’ bar everyday. She used ta let me ‘go out and play’,” Jesse says while he makes little air quotes with his hands “There was a television store down the street and the owner really liked music. I don’t think there was a day where we couldn’t see a guy playin’ on the screens. That’s how I learnt ta play, by watchin’.”

Jesse turns his back to Hanzo again, checking on the food, as he goes on. “When I got good enough ta play a few classics, I started playin’ on the streets.” Hanzo watches Jesse’s shoulder moving as he chuckles. “I used ta spend all my money in sweets an’ I ended up gettin’ cavities.”

“That must have been painful,” Hanzo says. “I remember when Genji managed to get cavities. He refused to eat anything solid for a week.”

They stay silent for a little while as Jesse seems to find the cooking of the meat much more interesting than the end of his story. Hanzo clears his throat and shifts his weight to one side.

“What happened then?” he prompts patiently, watching how diligently Jesse cooks. He can’t help but admire how much attention the other man keeps on the food. It’s...charming to Hanzo to see McCree multi-task with the grill and several other pans on the stovetop.

Jesse finally tears his gaze from the grill and smiles warmly at Hanzo, crossing his arms on his muscular chest.

“I told ya, I played on the streets. It’s…it’s An interestin’ experience. You meet a lotta people, ‘specially on the subway. One day I met a dude with an electric guitar, real nice fellah. We became friends and he taught me how to do maintenance for instruments. So when the guy started a band with a bunch a other dudes he found on the streets, he asked me to lend a hand here an’ there. After some time, I became known for it and now it’s my job.” Jesse stops talking, drawing his full attention on Hanzo, a warm smile slowly growing on his face. “Why are ya smillin’ so much, darlin’?”

Hanzo leans back on his stool and starts spinning back and forth. "I just admire your accent. It is rather cute."

He doesn’t miss the way McCree sputters at the admission and quickly bows his head to hide the surprise. But if the other man says anything, Hanzo can’t hear it under the hiss of meat sizzling on the grill. He lifts his nose in the air and takes in the pleasant smell of whatever Jesse is cooking. Carne asada is what he called it, but Hanzo wasn’t entirely sure about the ingredients or what it tasted like.

“So, is it almost ready?” he asks, leaning against his arms again, lips pursed into a small smile.

“Yep! I hope you worked up an appetite, darlin’!” It almost makes Hanzo melt with how warm and affectionate McCree’s voice is.

Hanzo’s eyes dart up and down a few times, taking in the sight of Jesse cooking so attentively. “You could say that,” he teases and nibbles against his bottom lip. He watches as Jesse turns the oven off and pulls out a thin pan, oblivious to Hanzo’s flirting.

“Biscochitos are done cookin’, just need to let them cool,” McCree mutters as he slides the pan onto the kitchen countertop and focuses his attention back on the grill. Hanzo watches as Jesse slices off a thin piece of steak and nibbles on it. “Yessir. Seasoned just right!” With that, the other man quickly gathers a set of plates, and starts scooping food out onto the dishes.

Hanzo perks up as McCree sets the food on the counter, the plates rather elegantly composed. He leans forward, smelling the dishes and trying to guess which spices McCree used.

“Lemon?” He asks, raising a curious brow at the cowboy.

“Jus’ try it an’ tell me what you think.” McCree sounds a bit anxious but smiles nonetheless.

Hanzo carefully cuts a bit of the meat and puts it in his mouth, savouring it. The taste of onions hits first, then the lime and lemon, contrasting with the taste of the meat pleasantly. When he starts munching, Hanzo finds he quite likes the texture too.

“It is delicious,” he says, watching as the anxiety drains from Mccree’s face, replaced by relief. “Where did you learn how to cook?”

McCree starts picking at the food on his own plate. “I’d like ta say that my Ma taught me but I just watched videos on the internet. What about you? You know how to cook?”

Hanzo finishes his mouthful of meat and dries off his mouth on his napkin, taking all his time to answer. “I know the basics but I rarely have the time to cook myself. Genji is a catastrophe in a kitchen so we mostly go out or buy ‘microwavable stuff’,” he says, smirking.

McCree snorts. “You’ll never let me forget I said that, will ya?”

“Nope,” Hanzo answers, popping the word. “May I get a drink?”

Quickly, McCree stands up and slaps a hand to his face. “Ack! Sorry, darlin’! How could I forget! Uh...Let’s see here!” He rushes to the wine rack, under the counter and scrambles for a few bottles of wine. “Any kind ya like in particular?”

Hanzo merely smirks at how panic-stricken Jesse looks. “Since I recommended the ramen you tried, I’ll allow you to pick a kind for me.”

McCree hesitates and rubs his chin. “How about some Malbec? It’s the most typical wine to go with Carne asada.”

“It sounds good.” He answers, leaning back on the stool as he watches McCree pour the wine in two glasses. When the cowboy offers him one of the glasses, Hanzo looks up at him.

“Thank you,” he says, gazing into the other’s warm brown irises when something else catches his attention. There’s a lump on McCree’s brow, right above his left eye. He takes a few short sips of the wine, but he’s too distracted to fully admire the taste. He waits until Jesse is seated and keeps staring at the other man “What happened to your eye?” he asks, frowning in concern.

McCree seems confused so Hanzo leans against the counter and pokes the lump, careful to avoid staining his outfit with the food. He watches as a blush appears across McCree’s cute freckled face.

“Oh, I just... Bumped my head on the counter… When ya texted me earlier, I dropped my phone.”

Hanzo hums, an idea coming to life in his mind. “Does it hurt?”

McCree chuckles. “A bit, but I reckon I’ll survive this.”

 Hanzo smirks. “If it hurts, then let me cast a spell on it.” He says, using one arm on the counter for support, and he leans closer. His other hand comes behind McCree’s head and pulls him gently until Hanzo can kiss the lump. He can feel the other man take a stuttered breath as a pair of warm hands land on either side of Hanzo’s face. Before he can chicken out, Hanzo presses a line of kisses on McCree’s face--one on the eye, two on the cheek and one right above his mouth. He takes all his time to lay one final kiss on McCree’s lips, looking at the other in the eyes when he pulls out.

“You taste like meat…” came McCree’s hushed answer.

Hanzo snorts and sits back on the stool. “And you taste like cheap cigars.”

“Cheap?” McCree asks quietly with a mock pout. “But they have such flavor, darlin’.” He flashes a cheeky grin as he leans closer and kisses Hanzo’s cheek in return. “Not as much flavor as you though.”

Hanzo nearly drops his fork at the sweet gesture and quickly hides a snort behind his hand. He’s so glad he found McCree at the bar a few weeks ago, he thinks as he feels his heart flutter and a fond smile soothes his features. When he leans back in his chair, however, Hanzo notices that McCree’s plate doesn’t contain any meat. He raises a single brow in question and looks back at his lover.

“You did not make any for yourself?” he asks, gesturing to Jesse’s plate. He notices there is some kind of salad instead of the carne asada.

“I--uh…” McCree starts; he seems a bit uncomfortable. “I’m mostly vegetarian.”

Hanzo feels ice replace the warm feeling in his guts. “...But you ate the ham in the ramen. Did you do it only so I would not think badly of you?”

McCree starts gesturing wildly, he almost knocks the wine bottle away as he blurts out. “No, no sweetheart! I said 'mostly'! I do eat meat!” He pauses. “Sometimes..."

Hanzo feels some of the dread fade away with relief, but the frown doesn’t leave his face. “If you had told me, I would have asked you to cook something we can both enjoy equally.”

McCree looks back at his plate sheepishly. “I made enough of the vegetables for two,” he offers with a smile. “Besides, I know I’m better at cooking meat.”

“If you’re sure,” he replies, his frown slowly turning into a pout instead. He decides not to push McCree anymore about the subject and takes another bite from his food.

They continue to eat, chatting and gossiping about people at their work. Hanzo complains about McMilan for a while but stops when he notices McCree turned silent.

“What is the matter?” He asks, worried. “Does your head hurt?”

“Nah, I was just wonderin’ if you’d like ta watch a movie with me while we eat dessert.” Jesse smiles softly, almost sadly.

Hanzo reaches out and gently brushes McCree’s hair from his face, admiring his brown eyes. “What did you have in mind?” He lays his hand on Jesse’s cheek, his thumb gently brushing the other’s scruffy beard.

McCree leans into the touch and hums. “How about we watch Junkenstien’s Revenge?”

Hanzo makes a teasing chuckle. “Ah, a horror movie? You want an excuse to keep me close to you, do you not?” he asks with a wink.

The other man grins in return and scratches the back of his neck. “Maybe.”

Hanzo’s heart flutters at the sight. _Damn that man is gorgeous_ , he thinks, eating the last bit of food from his plate and putting the fork down. “Alright then,” he says with a smile, standing up.

“Perfect! You can go on the sofa, I’ll get the cookies!” McCree answers excitedly.

“May I charge my phone while we watch the movie? I would not like missing a call from Genji if he needs something.”

“Sure thing, darlin’. There’s an outlet near the couch.”

Hanzo makes his way from the dinner table to the sofa while McCree fumbles around in the kitchen. He gently plops down against the comfy leather cushions and relaxes against the couch. It feels nice and plush against his back; more comfortable than any typical bed. He doesn’t have to wait long before the other man sits next to him with a bowl and a blanket in his hands, a huge smile splitting his gorgeous face.

“So,” Jesse begins as he leans closer to Hanzo and picks up his television’s remote, “You’re familiar with Junkenstein then? This one’s a sequel to a previous movie,” he explains and waits for the screen to flicker on.

Hanzo nods. “I am, but I have not had the chance to watch it. Free time is very hard to come by with my work. My brother, Genji, is a big fan of them both,” he says, picking up the case where he keeps his glasses and putting them on. When he looks back at him, Jesse is staring.

“Is there a problem?”

“Nothin’! I was just thinking you look handsome and smart with glasses on. Not that you’re not smart, ‘cause I think you are but y’know, the glasses makes you look more intellectual?”

Hanzo chuckles at the comment and quickly reaches for one of the treats in the bowl. “I see. Well, I’m sure you would look nice with glasses as well.”

McCree snorts. “Yeah, I’d look like a nerd. Do you like the biscochitos?”

Hanzo feels so tempted to reply back with how McCree would be a handsome ‘nerd’, but decides against it. “Yes. I always loved sweets but it is the first time I’ve tried something from another country than my own. Genji made me try some American treats before but they all tasted awful,” he emphasizes with a disgusted shiver.

A sudden mad cackle coming from the t.v. interrupts them as a bold ‘Junkenstein’s Revenge’ title card flashes on the screen. McCree makes himself comfortable on the sofa and beckons Hanzo over. The later settles himself, leaning on Jesse and deciding that _this_ is even better than the cushions. The blanket is then splayed out on their legs and the bowl falls into Hanzo’s lap. McCree’s hands find the edge of his sweater and slides beneath it, making Hanzo squirm.

“Sorry, darlin’, my hands are cold,” a low voice drawls near his temple.

Hanzo opens his mouth to reply, but no words form as the plot of the movie draws him in. It takes place after the defeat of Doctor Junkenstein’s monster from the previous movie. The town Aldersbrunn called on four heroes--an old, hardened Soldier, a mysterious Alchemist, a loner Archer, and a kind-hearted Gunslinger--to defend the villagers from an onslaught of ‘zomnics’. Hanzo mentally scoffs at the wonky looking _zombie omnic_ design.

Along with the danger of the zomnics, there was the threat of a cloaked beast called The Reaper. Black mist followed him with every step and movement and he had a terrifying pumpkin in lieu of a head. Hanzo suspects from the start that he had some kind of history with the Soldier, due to passing comments.

After nearly half an hour into the movie, Junkenstein’s monster rears its head once more and attacks with the Reaper. The four warriors fend off the pair after an exciting battle with guns and bow and science and gunshots. And then, Junkenstein appears alongside a large wave of more of his robotic horde.

The group took up defensive positions directly in front of Aldersbrunn’s castle doors for the final confrontation: the Soldier guarding the central bridge with the Alchemist by his side and throwing healing potions to the three when they were injured, the Gunslinger standing on the upper staircase picking off amazing headshots left and right, and finally the Archer perched up on a small platform high above the courtyard, calling out directions and scouting for tactical advantages as his arrows rained down.

Hanzo munches on his cookie anxiously as he watches the soldier manage to land the final bullet into Junkenstein’s heart and the heroes all sigh in relief. But then--Hanzo feels his breath lump in his throat in disbelief--a shrill laugh disturbs the peace. A winged form descends from the air, chanting in foreign tongue. The Witch who brought Junkenstein’s creation to life, and formed a pact with the Reaper’s soul, has arrived.

All the villains are revived and a final stand begins. It’s a shocking moment, so much that Hanzo sits up in alert and clenches a handful of the blanket covering him and McCree.

The heroes are overwhelmed by the zomnics coming to destroy the door, the Alchemist has to stop attacking to focus on her healing but there’s just too many enemies...Until the Gunslinger manages to kill fifteen zomnics with his six shooter--despite being critical of details, Hanzo overlooks the error to enjoy the movie--which allows the Soldier and the Archer to focus on the enemies. The Witch went down first, soon followed by the Reaper and the Monster. The fight ends when the Archer puts an arrow right between Junkenstein’s eyes and Hanzo relaxes back against McCree. He remains speechless as the movie ends on a bittersweet note: the villains are defeated, but the Soldier muses at the loss of his old comrade. The Alchemist bids her allies goodbye and departs to travel the country alone. The Gunslinger and the Archer enjoy one another’s company, helping to repair the damage caused by the fight.

When the staff roll appears on the screen, McCree not-so-subtly yawns, stretches, and hooks an arm around Hanzo, pulling him closer. “That was a good choice, huh?”

It makes Hanzo smirk as he plays along and rests his head against the other man’s shoulder. “I can see why my brother is such a fan of the series.”

“So, which one was your favorite, darlin’?” Jesse asks and nuzzles his cheek against Hanzo’s head.

He taps his chin in consideration and his eyes narrow thoughtfully. “I believe I enjoyed the Gunslinger’s character the most. The way he spoke reminded me of someone”--Hanzo reaches out and teasingly squeezes McCree’s thigh--“and it was charming. But I did notice some...tension between him and the Archer. Good tension,” he clarifies with a smile.

“He is a fancy shooter. I’ll give ‘im that!” McCree chuckles. “Always found myself fond of the Alchemist. She’s a nice old lady, kind of gives ya a ‘grandma vibe’.”

“I do not like her much…I do not trust her alchemy,” Hanzo answers just as his phone starts ringing. He stretches a hand to grab the device laying on the table. The screen shows notifications for about ten messages. One from McCree, eight from Genji and one from Jack. He rolls his eyes as he momentarily ignores his brother’s texts and opens Jack’s instead.

It’s a lengthy text, but Hanzo isn’t surprised; Jack never sends multiple messages. It starts off with the usual ‘Hello’ before he gets to the point. Hanzo learns that a few weeks after his upcoming photo-shoot with James McMilan--he barely contains the urge to roll his eyes thinking about the pompous fool--he’ll be having a session with a very prominent omnic model that’s been rising in popularity for a few months. He’ll be visiting the country all month before the photo-shoot happens though and stopping by the agency in mere days.

Hanzo simply tilts his head to one side, glances back at McCree, before he smiles and sends a response to his manager: _Apologies for the abrupt request, but I will need to take tomorrow off. I am not feeling well._

Within a minute, Hanzo gets a reply: _Very well. Feel better, don’t worry about coming in this weekend. Rest up._

“What’s that smile about?” Jesse asks, scruffing his beard playfully against Hanzo’s temple.

“I asked my manager for a day off tomorrow so I can stay here tonight.”

“Funny, I just sent mine a text too. Poor Jesse McCree has a cold and he can’t even breathe,” he explains, waving his phone back and forth in glee. “Aren’t we both terrible?” McCree added with a wink and beckons him to the couch.

Hanzo purses his lips as he approaches and sinks back down beside McCree. “I suppose I do not know enough about bands or how they work. A soundcheck technician has a manager?”

McCree shifts uncomfortably behind him. “Well, I said manager ‘cause it’s kinda the same job. At least I think it is? I mean, that guy tells me when and where I’m needed so…”

“Ah. I see,” Hanzo replies quietly, fatigue from such an exciting day finally catching up to him. He closes his eyes in an attempt to rest them. He’s barely awake when he hears the telltale sound of someone taking a picture with their phone.

Hanzo gets one last whiff of McCree’s pleasant cologne, enjoys how comfortable the other man is, before he slips away into sleep; never moving from his spot on the couch for the entire night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nyeheheehehehe so much fluff !! Enjoy it while you can, angst comes next chapter >:3c


	5. Perfect is Boring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we decided to make omnics a bit more present in the story, I hope y'all will enjoy it ! :)  
> There's also a trigger warning for a car crash, I suppose... Still no archive warnings apply, don't worry o/

A week has passed since their movie night, and Jesse McCree realizes that he’s in _love._ The kind of love one might read about in romance novels or see in sappy movies, the one you want to write with a capital L and sign with a cutesy drawn heart. He can’t stop thinking about Hanzo; the man devours his thoughts with his eyes, his soft lips, his beauty…

Every time Jesse is alone with Hanzo, he feels like he just walked pass the pearly gates. It kills McCree knowing Hanzo despises one part of himself. But...seeing the kinder, gentler, and affectionate side of Hanzo, one that enjoys being with McCree, makes all the glares, scoffs and hatred worth it. It doesn’t matter how many times James feels his heart break as long as Jesse can feel his heart melt as well.

“-- _abrón_!”

McCree startles from his thoughts when a heavy binder slaps on his lap. He winces and glances to the thick pile tossed on his lap before hesitantly lifting his gaze to meet Gabriel’s irked one.

“You got a lot of nerve, _mocoso_ ,” Gabriel snaps and crosses his arms. “You slack off when you know we have the photoshoot with Shimada coming up. And now you aren’t paying attention to me!”

“But, Gabe,” McCree pleads. “I really was feeling sick! Come on,” he pleads, mouth pulling into a pout. “Ain’t a man allowed to feel sick once in awhile?”

“Pura mierda! ” Gabriel hisses immediately. “You pull that crap again and I’ll give you something really tough to cry about. You’re only lucky because Shimada missed a day as well.”

“Did he now?” McCree asks with an feigning smile. “I guess no human’s perfect, huh?”

Reyes throws his hands up and plops down in his office chair. “As I was saying, study that binder. It has all the previous photographs chosen by the magazine, so you’ll have an idea of what the client is looking for. You should be grateful, cabrón. It was a lot of work gathering those together.”

McCree chuckles and quickly opens the binder. “Thank ya, Gabe.” He skims through the portfolio, staring at the models on each page. Gabriel wasn’t kidding; most of them are shirtless and showing off their figures. “Ah...I think I get what they’re lookin’ for.”

“I hope you’re following your diet better than you are with showing up to work,” Gabe mutters in annoyance as he moves his attention to the paperwork on his desk. “Ah, mierda. Casi me olvido. That robot model is here, getting a tour of the studio. Mondatta?”

McCree instantly perks up. “THE Mondatta? He’s here?! Right now?” In an instant, Jesse sounds like an eager five-year-old child. “Can I go meet him? Pretty please?”

Gabe deadpans. “If you never use the phrase ‘pretty please’ ever again. Get the hell out of here and make friends with the robot. You could benefit with a collaboration with him in the future.”

In an instant, McCree stands up, waves to Gabriel and is out of the man’s office. He asks everyone he sees if they know where the omnic is until one of the make up artists tells him she saw Mondatta in Hall B’s cluster of photography rooms--most likely being shown where he’ll be having his pictures taken. McCree dashes in that direction and he swears he’s never run faster in his life until he trips on his own feet and falls forward. He lets out a string of curses and tries to stand back up but his arms refuses to carry his weight and he falls back, face first on the floor.

“You look pathetic, McMilan.” A pair of white espadrilles with a light blue border around the rim of the shoes comes into view.

McCree sighs against the floor before sitting up. “Howdy, Shimada-san.”

Only when Hanzo’s expression shifts from disgust to confusion does he remembers that James McMilan does _not_ “howdy” people. He quickly glances away, pretending to find Hanzo’s shoes more interesting than his face.

“I was unaware the studio allowed clumsy cowboy impersonators in. Now, you sound as ridiculous as you look," he hears Hanzo say.

McCree steals a quick stare up and is met with Hanzo’s disapproving scowl before he walks away. His words leave a harsh sting, as he remembers Hanzo complimenting his accent on several occasions. _Another thing McCree is allowed to have but not McMilan_ , he thinks bitterly.

He goes to stand up but is stopped midway by a vertigo. For a second, he feels as if he’s going to fall back on the floor so he leans against the wall for support. When the sensation passes, he starts walking in the direction of Hall B.

It isn’t hard to spot which room Mondatta is in, the doors are wide open and there is a crowd of people gathered around the omnic. When he enters, McCree spots Genji talking excitedly with an omnic, away from the crowd in their own little corner, and he waves at them. The omnic waves back, making Genji turn and realise McCree’s presence. He waves back at Jesse with a big smile then points at the crowd and mouths “Mondatta” before giving him a thumbs up. McCree makes sure no one is looking at him and mimics a hat tip before diving into the crowd.

For years, his fascination for omnics had grown. It was amazing how prominent they became in society, with a vast variety of actors and models and even politicians. Jesse remembers watching the debates on television when there were no guitarists for the TV shop to display: people arguing over whether or not omnics should have as many rights as humans. He remembers the first time he saw Mondatta, on the front page of a dirty newspaper he was about to burn; how he instead tore the article off the paper and saved it to read.

If something or someone like an omnic could manage to go so far, then maybe someone like Jesse could be more than some kid playing guitar on the streets, burning newspapers to keep warm at night. Maybe one day, Jesse could finally be worthy of a better life...and of love. Not entirely in the romantic sense, a feeling of belonging and having love and support often given by family. His dad had been a piece of garbage and his mother never paid attention to what he did--even running with the Deadlocks didn’t get her attention--and Jesse had always wondered what it would feel like to be loved. But seeing a being as amazing as Mondatta makes him realize those days are over.  He had managed to meet Gabe, who was an amazing manager, even if he came across as a hard ass. And even more, he and Hanzo were growing closer.

It made Jesse realize, he’d never be alone again.

McCree feels his breath clog up in his throat when he spots a distinct shade of gold and white metal after the crowd parts slightly. He holds back a scream when his idol’s gaze falls on him and ignores all the other people greeting him while he approaches Mondatta, feeling like a young child as he gets closer and closer. “Uhhh! Mister Mondatta. Sir. It’s...it’s an honor to meet me--you! Meet you.” He winces and tries to hide his face with his hat before remembering he doesn’t have it, settling with his hand instead.

“It is an honor to meet you as well, Mister McMilan,” Mondatta answers, bowing his head respectfully.

McCree forgets how to breathe for an entire minute before he squeaks out “You _know_ me?”

The omnic chuckles and lays a hand on McCree’s shoulder. “Why, of course I know you. Your reputation precedes you, my friend. I have seen your work in my travels shown all across different billboards and magazines," Mondatta lets go of McCree’s shoulder, much to his chagrin. "But, I do not know you personally. Why don't you accompany me on my tour? I would love to speak more with you and Shimada-san."

“Shimada-san? Wait…Which Shimada-san are we talking about here?”

“I believe Mondatta-san was referring to me,” a stern voice answers. McCree turns to look at Hanzo, who doesn’t look happy with the omnic’s suggestion. “We were preparing to finish the tour. Just the two of us.”

“Wonderful,” Mondatta replies and cants his head to one side, seemingly oblivious to Hanzo’s ire. “I will inform my younger brother before we depart.”

Jesse watches as the omic strolls away and approaches the same omnic Genji is speaking to privately.

“Heh. You both have a lot in common already,” McCree murmures and glances to Hanzo. “You both have little brothers.”

Hanzo royally ignores him and quietly walks to the doorway, McCree follows after him. The silence is becoming heavy as they watch Mondatta letting some people take selfies with him.

“Hum,” McCree starts, unsure of what he’s going to say. “I didn’t have the time to tell you this earlier but, uh…I like your shoes.” He mentally slaps himself for that lame comment, watching as Hanzo looks down at his espadrilles and at McCree’s freshly polished shoes.

“Even your shoes are wearing makeup,” he scoffs with disdain.

The response quickly makes McCree wilt and he sighs at the rebuttal. Jesse takes out his phone, switches it into silent mode and types a quick text to Hanzo. He knows it’s risky but he could really use a bit of love right now. He re-reads his message and hits send. _Heya Hanzo~ How’s your day?_

He can hear his lover’s phone vibrating when it is being pulled out. A small smile appears on Hanzo’s face when he reads the message and Jesse can feel his chest swell with happiness.

 _It is quite calm, I have been asked to accompany Mondatta, a_ _n omnic model_ _, on his tour of the studio._

Jesse turns his back to Hanzo, to answer his text. _OMG you’re with Mondatta??? He’s my fav model!!!!_ He hits send and quickly types a second message: _After you, of course ♥_

He hears Hanzo make a soft chuckle and his fingers type away. A few seconds later, he receives the message. _Is that so?_ He’s about to write an answer when Mondatta interrupts him by putting a hand on his shoulder.

“My apologies for the delay,” the omnic says and Jesse notices Mondatta’s other hand resting on Hanzo’s shoulder. “My brother, Zenyatta, is quite fascinated with your brother, Shimada-san. He has been a fan of their music for several months now.”

Instantly the good mood drains from Hanzo’s face as he turns his attention back on Mondatta and McCree. “Ahh. I see.”

Jesse finds it strange that Hanzo doesn’t say more at the mention of his brother, considering how often he talks about him. It’s surprising, as well, that Hanzo turns away quietly and beckons for them to follow.  McCree taps his fingers together for a few seconds, scratches at the back of his neck, and clears his throat. “So, that was Hall B. All the photoshoots happen there.”

“Obviously,” Hanzo replies.

“Hall C is where the photos are edited,” he continues, ignoring Hanzo’s irked voice.

“McMilan knows this part of the studios fairly well.”

“And you don’t, Shimada-san?” Mondatta asks innocently.

Jesse almost immediately gets another text. _This robot is really your favorite model? He seems as bad as the rest of them._ (´;︵;`)

“Well, Mister Shimada here is a bit of a special case with his work,” he clarifies and stares at Mondatta. “He’s very sought after because he refuses to let his photos be digitally altered.”

“Oh, I did not know that models could have that choice. When I asked about it at the beginning of my career, I have been told not to worry about it.”

“Many do not have such a choice,” Hanzo snaps at them. “It took years of hard work to possess even a modicum of this ‘privilege’. Not that many people understand what hard work and compromises means these days,” he continues, glaring at McCree as if he never ever worked hard in his life.

Jesse sighs. “I never said you didn’t work hard for it, Shimada-san and I never said everyone has that choice neither, including myself.”

Hanzo snorts. “Even if you were offered the choice, I doubt you would stop them from altering your pictures.”

McCree stops for a moment to think about it. Would he really ask for digital work on his photos if Gabe ever gives him the choice? He looks at his reflection on one of the windows and sighs again. “You’re right...Not everyone is as handsome as you, Shimada-san.”

It makes Hanzo scoff and press ahead without another word.

“Do not fret,” Mondatta states after a moment of silence. “I understand. You both may utilize alternate methods, but in the end, you both inspire. Many look up to your work.”

“Thank you.” Jesse smiles at the omnic. “And I know at least one person you’ve inspired as well. I don’t know where I’d be if I hadn’t read about you on a newspaper when I was--shoot--14 or 15? I just saw someone who climbed out of bias and did something meaningful. It opened my eyes.”

“I understand. It’s very humbling to be a source of inspiration.”

McCree’s smile falters and he swallows back some self-doubt.

“Now,” Mondatta continues and gestures ahead with a nod. “Where is Hall A? What is done there?”

McCree pauses and types out a ‘ _I bet he’s not so bad darlin. Can’t always judge on first impressions.’_ to Hanzo. He doesn’t have to wait long to get an answer. _Could you come get me around 5 p.m.?_

 _Sure, hun._ _Can’t wait to see you again :^)_

“My bad, Mondatta. Didn’t mean to get carried away there.” He tears his gaze away from the phone and glances up to the omnic. “Hall A is actually the runway! I don’t typically walk it myself, but it’s where they try to bring in new blood for the agency and fashion designers show off their new lines.”

The rest of the tour proceeds in a similar manner: little to no feedback from Hanzo while Jesse directs Mondatta around. They show him Hall A, and then the private dressing rooms for the prominent models, and then they end in the agency’s cafeteria. It’s located at the top of the agency, but a menacing flight of stairs guard the route up. There is an elevator located on the other side of the agency but it would seem odd and out of the way to ask to take the longer route so Jesse just sucks it up and starts climbing.

It’s not that Jesse doesn’t like taking the stairs. He usually does just that, but the diet has been pretty rough on him and each step just drains him of all of his energy. His breathing deepens around midway up as he hears Hanzo mock him for his lack of stamina. The remark makes him wish Hanzo would see McMilan the way he sees McCree.

Once he finally reaches the top of the stairs, McCree curls up on himself, hands on his knees, in an attempt to catch his breath. When he doesn’t feel like his lungs are burning anymore, he stands straight and is hit by vertigo again. He stumbles back and bumps into Hanzo; he desperately clutches against the man for support.

“M’sorry, Shimada-san,” he mumbles when he finds his balance back. He lets go of the man and takes a deep breath. “I guess you swept me off my feet,” he jokes weakly.

He doesn’t give Hanzo time to snap at him or for Mondatta to question if he is alright and quickly turns on his heels. “Anyway, I gotta head back to my dressin’ room. Nice meeting you, Mondatta!” He doesn’t spare them another glance before leaving.

The walk back to his room is draining, exhausting, and a huge strain on his body, but McCree pushes on. He doesn’t answer any of the staff greeting him on the way and locks himself in as soon as he enters. He slumps into the chair and looks at the ceiling for a while. He should talk to Reyes about the diet, it can’t be healthy to eat so little and exercise so much at the same time. He closes his eyes and almost immediately falls asleep.

McCree wakes up a few hours later, feeling sore and disoriented. He takes out his phone with a grunt and checks the time. He has one more hour before having to pick up Hanzo who apparently got worried after he stopped answering his texts. McCree opens the unread texts and listens to the voice mail message before typing a quick apology. _Sorry sweetheart, I fell asleep :^/ I’ll be here to pick you up around 5 like I promised tho <3 _

McCree scratches his face and groans. He should have gotten rid of the makeup before falling asleep; every inch of his face feels itchy and dry. It takes approximately half an hour to wash the makeup away before applying a moisturizing cream. McCree sighs and looks at himself in the mirror to make sure Hanzo won’t be able to spot the remaining marks of eyeliner around his eyes. He’s glad to see he doesn’t look as tired as he feels, the bags under his eyes are still visible but he knows his hat will hide them just fine.

He glances down at the time and swears under his breath. Why does it takes so much time to wash cosmetics away? McCree hurries to his closet and digs into it until he finds a pair of blue jeans and a--in his opinion, quite horrible--flannel shirt. He’s glad he kept a spare pair of boots as well, for when his dress shoes hurts too much. He changes quickly, drops his hat on his head and hurries to a washroom nearby where he can splash water on his slicked back hair to rinse the awful gel away. He looks at himself one last time in the mirror before walking towards the parking lot where Hanzo is waiting for him, careful to look at his feet so that his hat hides his face.

McCree huffs as he jogs to meet up with Hanzo. He kept his hat tucked against his face and took the less traveled paths, avoiding the crowds as much as possible. When he sees Hanzo, he starts taking longer strikes, his spurs jingling louder, which get the other’s attention. McCree can feel his heart melt when Hanzo smiles and waves at him like he’s the best goddamn thing on earth. It’s so refreshing and warming to see Hanzo’s expression not angry or upset, but simply happy...Happy to see McCree for once today.

“M’sorry I’m late, darlin’,” McCree says, planting a quick kiss on Hanzo’s cheek.

“How was your day, dearest?” Hanzo asks and returns a kiss of his own.

McCree hums and leans a bit against Hanzo, silently asking for more. “One of my co-worker’s been an ass.”

The other man’s expression turns sympathetic as he cups his hand against McCree’s cheek. “My condolences. I suppose I can help make you feel better at least?”

“Oh?” Jesse asks with a grin and pulls Hanzo’s arm over his shoulder, guiding it to rest around his neck.

“I have a surprise for you,” Hanzo whispers before pressing kisses against his neck.

“Shimada-san--Hum, sorry to interrupt,” someone says and McCree freezes as Hanzo steps aside, revealing Mondatta. “Oh, hello again McMilan.”

Silence settles between the three until Hanzo pulls back from him and shifts his gaze onto the omnic. “What?” he asks, frowning.

Jesse can feel the life draining from his body. His hands shake and his eyes grow wide. He tries to warn Mondatta, defend himself, apologize to Hanzo, wants to do _something_ but his body refuses to move and all he can do is watch as his world slowly shatters.

“Why did you call him ‘McMilan’?” Hanzo asks pointedly and peers at Mondatta. He scowls at the omnic; awaiting for some kind of explanation or response.

“Hanzo, darlin’,” Jesse finally manages to say, anxiously tugging at his collar. “I’m pretty sure he said ‘McCree’,” he fumbles with a flimsy excuse, eyes darting back and forth.

“He doesn’t know your name,” Hanzo snaps and turns on his heels, glaring up at Jesse. “So why would he say McCree instead?

“Surely this is a misunderstanding?” Mondatta suggests, as if sensing the tension between them. His robotic arms clasp calmly against his backside “But...you do possess an identical build, the same hair color and the same face albeit lacking the make-up Mister McMilan wears and a different shade of eye color.” It’s then when Mondatta pauses, glances from McCree to Hanzo and rests his hand against his chin. “...Perhaps I should leave you both to discuss this privately.”

Hanzo spares no second thought as Mondatta departs and glares at Jesse. “Is it true?” he demands. “Have you been lying to me?”

McCree extends a hand to try and wrap it around Hanzo’s waist. “Darlin’,” he begins.

Hanzo swats the hand away. “Have you been lying to me?” he repeats. If eyes could kill, McCree would be really dead right now.

“I-it’s not a lie! Just hear me out,” Jesse pleads and tries to clasp his hands around Hanzo’s--who in turn instantly yanks his arm out of reach. “It’s a long story.”

“Who are you?” Hanzo whispers deeply and jabs a finger against his chest. “Jesse McCree or James McMilan? Or is there a third name you go by as well?”

“That ain’t it! Just...jus’ listen to me?” McCree begs as he wipes his face, voice slightly cracking. He can’t remember panicking so much in his life before. “I’m both! Alright?! I’m both of ‘em. I have to be McMilan for my work, alright? But it’s not who I really am!”

“So you did lie to me when you said you were a soundcheck technician! How many more lies did you tell me?”

“Darlin’, please…” McCree tries.

“Do not ‘darling’ me! I do not know you!” Hanzo exclaims, taking a step back.

“Hanzo, please! I’m the exact same guy! Would you just…Would you just fuckin’ look at me for once?”

Hanzo freezes and scowls at him.

“How long have you and ‘McMilan’ worked together, Hanzo? A fucking year,” McCree struggles to explain as his bottom lip trembles. “And you never once gave me the time of day. You never gave me the chance to get close and get to know ya. A-at the bar, I didn’t mean to lie to you...but...but I thought it was some kind of joke when you came in and talked to me. But it wasn’t...You didn’t even recognize me, Hanzo.” McCree’s eyes starts filling with tears and he fights to keep his voice even. “Do ya have any idea how hard it was to stay away from you? To have to call the person you love by their family name because they hate your guts? Do you have any idea how painful it was to be half loved? Maybe if you didn’t keep your pretty head so far up your own ass, I wouldn’t hafta lie to you in the first place!” McCree half yells, anger and pain mixing agonizingly in his chest.

When he realizes what he just said, McCree’s eyes grow wide.

“I believe whatever lie we had is over then,” Hanzo stabs a finger against McCree’s chest. “Your lies, no. _You_ are not worth my time, whoever you are.” He turns to leave and stops. “I even doubt you are worthy of anything with that attitude.”

McCree can almost hear his heart shatter into a million pieces, like glass, as the world spins around him. Hanzo’s voice saying ‘You are not worth my time, I even doubt you are worthy of anything’ in an agonizing loop in his head. The words slowly spin and change, turning into a shorter, deformed message: “ _You are not worthy of anything_ ”.

He flashes back to being a fifteen-year-old, burning papers to keep him warm; he can never forget the glares of the flashy business men and women judging him as they walk by, whispering, “What a little brat.” and “What a waste.” He flashes back to the teachers in his early years of school, “You’ll never go anywhere. Who would care about a lazy student like you anyway? Your grades are so bad, I fear teaching you is just useless...” He flashes back to his desperate years: “You’re just a fucking piece of ass, Jesse McCree. You’ll never make it out there without me.” Lastly, he remembers his mother’s drunk face. “I shouldn’t have had you.”

When his mind finally races back to reality, he gets a glimpse of Hanzo’s face again and hears a distinct, “Do not call or text me ever again.”

He feels as immobile as a statue and can only watch while Hanzo walks away. Yet, once he’s finally alone, his legs give out, refusing to support him anymore. His heart feels heavy and his eyes itchy from the tears as an inhuman screech rips his throat.

One thing Hanzo will never know about Jesse McCree is how ugly he is when he cries out and, somehow, it soothes him to know that Hanzo didn’t get to truly see how ugly and disgusting he really is under his makeup.

Time passes in a blur: McCree barely remembers making it to his motorcycle and turning it on, barely remembers getting on his bike and straddling it, not even bothering to place his helmet on. He barely remembers putting his motorcycle in reverse. A familiar sound catches his attention--he realizes it’s the ringtone he assigned to Gabriel’s number--but he ignores it.

Lights stretches around him as he takes off from the agency and speeds up. He doesn’t check his speedometer, he forgets about the people around him, the cars, the streets. They are colorful blobs and blurs. All he knows is that everything hurts but the wind feels nice on his face. He doesn’t see the streetlight turning to red, doesn’t hear the car’s tires screeching as they stop, doesn’t hear the truck nor its horns.

Pain slams into his body. For a second, he doesn’t even realize the pain in his heart shouldn’t be able to do that. And suddenly…

He can’t feel or think at all.

Darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how's the highway to hell ? ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ 
> 
> I hope you still enjoyed this chapter, haha !! Don't worry, we'll fix this !... Probably... :D
> 
> Translation :  
> mocoso: you punk/snotty brat  
> Pura mierda: Bullshit  
> Ah, mierda. Casi me olvido: Ah, shit. I almost forgot.


	6. Yo lo Amo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slides this accross the table* We're really sorry we took so long to write this chapter. The next one could take even longer to write, we don't know yet but as I've said countless times before, we're gonna finish this fic! :)
> 
> EDIT: it says the chapter is by me but I suppose it's because I posted it from my account? Is it a new feature? Anyway, Buggu wrote as much as me for this chapter, maybe even more so don't pay attention to that o/

Hanzo can feel his stomach twisting and curling in disgust as he storms back into the agency. He has no patience for the fools who try to get in his path or speak to him. Echoes of his argument with McMilan--McCree--whoever the hell that man is, linger over him like an awful dark cloud. The worst part in all of this is that awful feeling of betrayal. Not that Hanzo wasn’t ever betrayed before, but this time, it actually hurts. Because he really, _really_ liked McCree. What a fool he was.

Tears of rage and betrayal build against the corners of his eyes, threatening to drip out. He bites back a sniff as he fans his eyes and quickly wipes at them, refusing to allow anyone to see him in such an upset state.

He pushes the doors of the room where he left Genji earlier and walks toward his brother. The room is quite empty, most people already went home or are getting ready to do so and Hanzo appreciates the quiet. It doesn’t ease the storm of his feelings but it helps to know there is little to no people likely to witness his misery.

“Hanzo?” he hears Genji call out, but ignores him.

“Come with me,” Hanzo hisses under his breath and grabs his sibling by the arm, dragging him out of the lobby.

“Brother, what’s wrong?!” Genji’s voice cracks in surprise, but he doesn’t pull away or push him back.  

Hanzo can’t bring himself to speak for several minutes, not until he and Genji are in his dressing room. After closing the door, Hanzo slumps against it, collecting his thoughts. He looks up at his brother and takes several deep breaths, trying--and failing--to regain some composure. He drags a hand against his face before he opens his mouth and swallows against his anxiety. “Genji…”

“What is wrong?” Genji demands, irritation and concern messing on his face. “What’s with the dramatics, Hanzo?”

“It is McMilan,” Hanzo snaps, his eyes growing watery. “I have been betrayed. It...He is…”

“Has he been friendly with you again? Or did he compliment you?” Genji cuts him, clearly irritated. It was hardly the first time Hanzo has pulled his brother aside to vent about the other model. “We’ve had this talk before, brother.”

“He is McCree,” Hanzo interjects and glares at his younger brother. “James McMilan is Jesse McCree. Or Jesse McCree is James McMilan. I do not even know which damn way it is!”

“Ah.” To Hanzo’s surprise, Genji doesn’t seem taken aback or even amazed by the revelation. “Yeah, I already knew.”

Hanzo can feel his anger spike. He straightens up and pokes at his brother's chest. “You knew and you did not tell me? Why? And don’t tell me you thought it was not relevant.”

When Genji lifts a hand to his mouth, Hanzo catches a glimpse of a grin between his fingers. He glares and tenses up as his brother begins to cackle, nearly curling in on his chest, when the teasing laughs escape his mouth anyway. “H-Hanzo!” Genji stammers in between laughs. “Brother...please!”

"I come to you for support and you laugh at my misery,” Hanzo huffs, crossing his arms defensively across his chest.

“Pardon my language,” Genji speaks with a strained voice and holds back another laugh. “How the hell did you not realize it sooner?”

Hanzo gapes at him indignantly. “I-He… It is not my fault, he is a master of disguise!”

“Oh my god,” Genji wheezes. “Come on, Hanzo! It was literally the same man, same hair and eye colors, and same build. How could you not see through his Clark Kent act?” He shakes his head and whips out his phone. “I need to talk to McWrap about this. Where is he anyway?”

Hanzo winces and inhales deeply. “It does not matter, Genji. I...Whatever we had is no longer…” his voice trails off and he turns away. Quietly, Hanzo stalks towards his recliner by his dressing room’s vanity dresser and sinks down, deflated.

“What did you do?” Genji asks. “You had a fight, didn’t you? I can tell because you’re being a whiny baby!” His brother whips around, lowering his phone, and follows after him.

“I am not!” Hanzo snaps between shuddering gasps and drags a hand across his face, resting against the top of his forehead. “Just forget him, alright? We are through. I will not be texting him anymore or calling him or eating dinner with him. And we will return to being distanced at work.”

Hanzo flinches when a pillow smacks him dead in the face. “This isn’t a soap opera, Hanzo! _Ganko Anija!_ ” Genji adds in Japanese and rolls his eyes. “Let me guess, you stormed off all dramatically and left poor Jesse to hang high and dry, wondering what to do.”

Hanzo bares his teeth at Genji and flings the pillow back at his sibling. “Be quiet!”

Genji steps forward, ducking out of the pillow’s path, and gives Hanzo a hardened look. His brows are furrowed in disappointment and his frown is growing. “Hanzo, I’m being serious. I was there that day in your photo shoot for the wolf sanctuary. Let’s see now: ‘It is impolite for two strangers to be so forward’? I’ve known him a lot longer than you have, Hanzo, so I can safely say you are being a damn fool! And you have no idea how great Jesse really is. If I wasn’t your brother, I’d say you don’t deserve him.”

“And how do you know him?” Hanzo whispers with a glare.

“He wasn’t lying about his work as a sound tech with bands,” Genji admits with a shrug. “I caught a glimpse of him at one of our shows, recognized him from all the advertisements, so I followed him to a local little bar after it was over. He begged me to keep quiet about his ‘secret’ identity. This was way before you two became associates, but it was still hard to hear about how cold you always treated him, Hanzo.”

“Obviously you do not know him very well, then. He has been very rude tonight.” When Genji raises a skeptical eyebrow, Hanzo continues, “He called me an ass and…” Hanzo pauses, trying to remember what else McCree said. When he can’t find any other insult, he repeats: “He called me an ass.”

The way Genji’s expression turns deadpan makes Hanzo shift uncomfortably in his chair. “Hanzo… Don’t tell me you haven’t been an ass, it’s not true and you know it.”

Hanzo crosses his arms across his chest and looks away. He doesn’t know what to reply so he does the next best thing: sulking in silence.

“Come on, Drama Queen,” Genji sighs and nudges Hanzo by the shoulder. “Food time.”

Hanzo takes a deep breath and nods before standing up and opening the door, Genji following him closely. Just as they’re about to step out into the hallway, Gabriel Reyes rushes past them, stopping Hanzo dead in his tracks.

It takes him a few seconds to regain his composure but eventually, he walks into the hall to look at McCree’s manager running.

“Wow, I’ve never seen him run so fast,” Genji says, frowning. “I wonder if McWrap made him angry...”

Hanzo huffs. “It could very well be, I would not care and it would serve him right,” he mutters and follows his brother in the opposite direction. He knows only one place where Genji would want to eat at.

* * *

 

After a much needed visit trip to Rumplings and a good night sleep, the Shimadas enjoy a lazy morning at Hanzo’s place, with Hanzo resting on his couch and reading a novella by his favourite author as Genji lounges beside him, flipping the tv channels at a rapid pace.

“Pick a channel or turn off the television,” Hanzo murmurs with an irritated tone. However, despite Genji’s somewhat annoying tendencies, he is glad his brother offered to keep him company for the night.

“Fiiiiiine,” Genji makes a mock whine and drops the remote, allowing the local news station to stay on the screen. It isn’t long before he turns on his side, relaxes against the couch, and gazes at Hanzo. “So. I’m not gonna pester you to tell how the fight went down...but just consider forgiving him, ok?”

Hanzo pauses from his readings and frowns. “I am making tea. Do you want some?” he asks abruptly, ignoring Genji’s comment as he stands up from the couch.

“You can’t run from this forever, brother. You work together, there’s no way you’re not going to see each other again and trust me, McWrap has an incredible sad puppy face.”

The elder Shimada scowls at Genji and walks around the couch, back into his kitchen. “Yes to tea?”

Genji sticks out his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Fine. Jasmine if you have any.”

Hanzo makes the tea in silence,not bothering to listen to the news as it runs on in the background. He watches as the water slowly turns into a dark brown; the color makes him think of Jesse’s eyes. He wonders what McCree’s sad puppy face looks like--until remembering that he’s mad at him and doesn’t want to see his face. He distracts himself by listening to Genji commenting on the news: the local schools are having fundraisers, a robbery occurred at a gas station, traffic was delayed because of an accident…

Holding back a sigh, Hanzo finishes preparing the tea and brings two small cups with him. He hands Genji’s cup to him but his brother doesn’t move and keeps his eyes glued on the TV instead.

“Thank you, brother,” Genji murmurs as he takes the cup. He lifts it up to his mouth but pauses as something on the screen catches his eye. “Hey, Hanzo. Isn’t that…?”

Hanzo looks up at the screen and freezes. There’s a crashed motorbike on screen. A tiny photograph of a familiar face appears In the top right corner of the tv as they broadcast the surveyed damage. He feels...numb as he recognizes the destroyed motorcycle. He’s certain that the red streaks on the pavement are blood. The crowd gathered around the scene all look horrified or upset. After, Hanzo spots a bold line of text scrolling over and over on the bottom of the story. Only then does the gravity of the situation click in place. ‘Famous Model Injured in Crash’. McMilan...McCree.

“Jesse,” Hanzo whimpers, feeling strangely heavy and frozen in place.  

“N-no way,” Genji whispers from beside Hanzo, as they both gaze on anxiously.

“--hirty-seven-year old, James McMilan, was injured in a crash last night. McMilan is a well known model working for LME productions. Witnesses affirm that McMilan was driving above the speed limit and went through a red light. He was rushed to a nearby emergency room, name withheld at the request of his manager, and is currently in a coma. Tragically, it is unknown if he will pull through.”

“Oh god,” Genji gasps between his hands and frantically reaches for his phone. “What if that was why Reyes was freaking out?” He dials a number with lighting speed and holds the phone to his ear. “Please answer...please!”

Hanzo still feels lifeless as he listens to his brother’s panicked breathing. “It’s not picking up, Hanzo!  It’s going straight to voicemail.” He watches as Genji’s eyes fill with tears, unable to move, unable to speak. He’s not even sure he’s breathing anymore.

“Shit!” Genji curses as he leaps up from the couch, tears dripping from his eyes, and rushes into the hallways connecting Hanzo’s living room to his bedroom. “C’mon Jesse, answer the phone, please!”

Hanzo listens to his brother’s voice breaking, cracking in pieces. He chokes back estranged sobs. The teacup in his hand slips between his fingers and tumbles down to the carpet. Hot tears roll along his sharp cheekbones as his last conversation with McCree rings in his ears.

 _“You never gave me the chance to get close and get to know ya.”_ He remembers McCree’s expression, the tears in his eyes. _“Do you have any idea how painful it was to be half loved?”_ He remembers his own anger then, cold yet still burning, the venom in his voice when he said: _“You are not worth my time.”_

As Hanzo squeezes his eyes shut, a distraught gasp breaks free; deep sobs immediately follow after it.

The news reporter’s voice starts echoing in his head. _“McMilan was driving above the speed limit and went through a red light.”_ Hanzo shakes his head to try and stop the voice but it keeps repeating itself, accusing.

He hears Genji fumble around in the hallway, cursing in a mixture of Japanese and English. Wordlessly, with eyes still soaked and dripping, Hanzo stands up and makes a beeline for his shoes and jacket.

“I will be back,” Hanzo weakly mumbles to his brother and slips out the door while Genji is still distracted.

The drive from Hanzo’s place to LME productions passes in a blur; he barely remembers it happening at all. But, here he is, glancing around frantically. His heart thrashes wildly against his chest in panic and his breathes heave heavily and unevenly against his throat. Frays of hair have broken free from his ponytail--a sign of his rushed appearance--and sweat coats the skin of his forehead. He takes a moment to try and scold his expression into his usual poker face before entering the building.

Many concerned expressions zero in on him, but Hanzo ignores them. He searches the crowd of people all gathered around the greeting office’s large wall mounted television where everyone is watching the news alert about James...Jesse. When he spots his target, Jack’s personal receptionist, and makes a beeline towards her.

The brunette woman is clearing her desk; where an almost comically large bouquet of flowers is taking up most of the wooden space. He steals a glimpse down to the flowers and spots a tiny yellow card that reads _‘You’re in our thoughts, James.’_ tucked in the paper band.

“Lena!” Hanzo calls out to her.

The woman jumps in surprise and quickly spins around to meet him. “Hanzo! Ya scared me, luv!”

“I cannot get a hold of Jack,” Hanzo explains, taking a deep breath. “I need to know where Jes--James has been taken to.”

Lena opens her mouth and closes it several times as she considers Hanzo’s words. She blows a few strands of hair away from her eye and meekly sags her shoulders. “Ah...Jack told me to keep hush hush at the moment, luv,” she murmurs apologetically. “Besides, I don’t really think it would be a great idea if you visited him there,” she says, wringing her hands. “Since y’know… You two fight all the time.”

Hanzo sighs and starts playing with one of the loose strands of hair from his ponytail, looking up and away to try not to spill any tears; he’s getting desperate.

“It has been pointed to me how,” he pauses, looking for another word than ‘mean’. “Uncivilized I have been to him… I would like to apologize.” Lena looks at him skeptically until he adds a weak, “ _please_ ”.

After a short time of silence, Lena sighs under the pleading gaze. She gathers the flowers and shoves them against Hanzo’s chest. “Fine. I’ll tell you, but you gotta bring these too.”  He nods eagerly and takes the note where Lena wrote the hospital’s address.

Before he can turn and leave, Lena quickly steps closer and glances around cautiously. “From what I understand, James has been admitted under a different name, luv. An alias? Anyway, it’s Jesse McCree.”

Hanzo mumbles, “Yes, I know. Thank you, Lena.” Then he turns and leaves as fast as he can without actually running and jumps into his car. He types the address in his GPS and tries to focus on the road this time.

When he finally arrives to Overwatch hospital, Hanzo spots his and Jesse’s managers getting a coffee. He moves stealthily across the lobby and sits in one of the chairs, feigning to be waiting as he listens to their conversation.

“... It’s all my fault, Jack.”

“No, we already talked about this. You can’t help that the kid was driving above the speed limit, Gabe!”

Hanzo watches from the corner of his eyes: how Gabriel sullenly stares at the floor and how Jack wraps his hands around the other man’s while their coffee rests on a counter. They are practically pressed against each other’s sides, almost...intimately; needing one another’s comfort. But then… Jack leans his head against Gabriel’s shoulder and Hanzo starts to think that all the gossip he hears about them at work isn’t just gossip.

“Let’s wait until he wakes up. He’ll tell you what happened.” Jack says almost too softly for Hanzo to hear.

“I killed him, Jack,” Gabriel’s whisper is so pained and broken. “I made him take that stupid diet. I saw he got drowsy and clumsy. Even the nurse said...”

“She said it didn’t help, she didn’t say it was the reason of the accident, Gabe.”

“But what if he fainted? For all we know, he could have fainted on his stupid bike because of that diet I forced on him! And for what? A bloody photoshoot with Hanzo. Everyone thinks he’s so _cool_ , wonderful _Hanzo_ with his _tattoo_ and his _long hair_. That guy’s just a bully!”

“Gabe, hold on. Look, I was going to talk to Hanzo about his attitude towards Jesse, but getting mad isn’t going to help right now. Calm down,” Jack replies and reaches for the other man’s shoulder. “Please…You know it’s not his fault either.”

Hanzo looks away, of course it’s his fault. How could it _not_ be?

“You should get some rest, Jack,” Gabe quietly mutters and kisses Jack’s forehead. _“Ve a dormir, cariño.”_

It takes a few more minutes and a pair of puppy eyes but Jack accepts to take a nap while Gabriel goes get something a bit more consistent than the hospital’s coffee. When he’s sure he won’t be noticed, Hanzo walks discretely up to the information desk and coughs to get the receptionist’s attention.

“How can I help you sir?”

“I...um...came to deliver those flowers to…” Hanzo pauses and pretends to look the name up on his phone, “Jesse McCree.”

The receptionist types the name on his keyboard and scrolls down for what feels like _ages_ before looking back at him.

“I’m sorry but this patient is still in a light coma state and he’s not taking visitors.”

“I understand but this is my job, I could get fired for not delivering these flowers. I will be in and out.” Hanzo can tell the receptionist is about to refuse again so he quickly adds, “Unless you would like to carry this particularly heavy bouquet by yourself, of course. It would actually be rather helpful.”

The guy just eyes the enormous bouquet wearily before giving Hanzo the room number and the direction to the elevators. It doesn’t take him long to find the room but he stands in front of it for several minutes, bracing himself and praying to all the gods he knows that he won’t be greeted by the sight of a McCree missing half of his body parts or something.

He freezes after he cracks open the hospital door and peers inside. His chest clenches up when he sees the prone form bundled up on the bed and he quickly rushes inside. Machines clutter around the bed--all monitoring different parts of the man’s body--and layers of pillows and blankets are swaddled around Jesse. The flowers are dropped on an empty chair beside the bed as Hanzo kneels by it.

He gets a better view of the other’s injuries and his eyes immediately tear up. Where Jesse’s left arm should be, there is a bandaged stub. Jesse’s face is decorated with deep scratches and bruises and several bloody patches adorn his head; a brace is clamped around his neck where bandages are wrapped snug towards his forehead and over his left eye. His right foot is set in a cast, supported by a cling at a corner of the bed.

Hanzo cringes, having little idea of how much pain the accident must have caused him. With a shaking hand, he clutches his fingers around Jesse’s right arm and buries his face against his chest.  “I’m sorry,” he whispers, blankets muffling his words. “I did this to you, didn’t I?”

At this moment, Hanzo would gladly give everything he owns to feel McCree’s strong and warm embrace, to see those soft chocolate eyes, the little marks at their corners whenever he smiles.

A choked sob escapes him when he realizes just how much he’s lost because he was too prideful to just listen, too wounded to forgive. He laughs dryly. He has hurt Jesse more than the cowboy had hurt him. _Physically and emotionally_ , Hanzo thinks bitterly as he remembers what the journalist had said on the news.

When he hears a groan, Hanzo immediately glances up to see  Jesse’s eye blinking slowly. He watches as the man rolls his gaze around, exhaustion and confusion very visible in Jesse’s expression while he examines his surroundings. When he finally gazes at Hanzo, a big and soft smile forms on his face.

“Jesse?!” Hanzo croaks, his tone barely above a whisper.

“Did _te dolió_...heaven...?” Jesse’s voice is hoarse and dry, but the goofy smile never leaves his face. He reaches up, almost drunkenly, and presses his fingers on Hanzo’s eye. "Mmmm... _Estoy mas volado que una cometa_. I must be in heaven.... _Un ángel_."

Hanzo pauses and frowns when he realizes that Jesse is far from coherent--most likely on a high dose of painkillers. A part of him is thankful the man is still alive; the other half despises himself. It’s his fault Jesse is in a hospital bed, missing an arm and heaven knows what other parts of his body.

He feels his lips quivering as he cups his hands around Jesse’s own and gently lifts it up. He presses a kiss to the calloused knuckles and bites back a sudden sob. “I’m so sorry, Jesse. I’m sorry.”

A light frown appears on McCree’s face as he watches Hanzo repeating apologetic whispers on loop. McCree wiggles his arm in an attempt to free his hand from Hanzo’s grasp then he pinches Hanzo’s nose with some difficulties.

“Boop!” He says happily, retrieving his hand slowly and sticking out his tongue in concentration as he tries to position his annular between his middle finger and index. After a while, he looks down at his hand and chuckles before positioning his thumb between the two fingers.

“Gotcha nose!”

Hanzo’s frown vanished from his face, but his brows still sank against his eyes. “I...should let you rest. I just needed to see you and apologize, Jesse.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?!”

Hanzo jumps in surprise, Jesse blinks slowly. They both turn their head to the doorway to see a fuming Gabriel Reyes--clutching a cup of coffee in his hand and shooting daggers in Hanzo’s direction.  He wipes at his eyes, takes a deep breath, and bows his head. “I-I...I did not mean to intrude.”

“How the hell did you get in?” Gabriel gritted between his teeth.

“I brought flowers,” Hanzo offers weakly and gestures to the discarded bouquet on the other chair.

“Gaaaabe!” Jesse calls out happily, oblivious to the tension between the other mens.

“Jesseeeee.” Gabe answers in what Hanzo assumes is his best fake happy voice. “Don’t move, kid, you’re so high you could touch the moon. And _you_ ,” he says, walking towards Hanzo and gripping the front of his shirt, “are getting the hell out of here!”

“Noooooooooooo!” Jesse whined, trying to sit up.

Gabriel let go of Hanzo at once and rushed to hold Jesse back in his bed. “I said don’t move, _condenado niño._ ”

" _No hagas que el ángel se vaya, jefe._ "

Gabriel snorts. “Angel? Maybe the kind with horns and a pitchfork..”

 _"Yo lo amo, Gabe_."

Hanzo watches the two men converse, feeling uncertain, ignorant and confused the whole time. When Gabriel passes a glance away from Jesse and back on himself, he can feel his heartbeat quicken. Next thing he knows, Hanzo is being guided back into a chair and a rather pissed Gabriel engulfs his vision. “What the hell is he talking about?”

“I don’t speak Spanish,” Hanzo admits quietly and rubs his forearm awkwardly. “What did he say?”

“He says,” Gabriel answers, leaning even closer, “that he’s in love with you. So I would like to know what on Earth lead him to think that. Everybody knows you hate him, Hanzo. Do you suddenly find my kid interesting now that he almost died?”

“No!” Hanzo snaps and buries his face into his hands. “I mean...that’s not…” A deep sigh leaves him as he glances back to Jesse and focuses on what’s left of his arm. “I have been a fool.”

“I think everyone’s been a fool,” Gabe mutters as he shoves the bouquet of flowers to the ground and sinks down in the other hospital chair. “But it doesn’t answer my question, cabròn.”

Hanzo takes a deep breath and looks at him in the eyes. “Before I explain everything, I want to let you know that I deeply care about Jesse and the only reason I am here now is because I am worried and--” Hanzo takes another deep breath before his voice can crack. “I am really sorry for what happened to him.”

“What.” Gabriel’s deadpan expression is enough to make Hanzo falter for several seconds.

“I know it sounds skeptical, after the way I’ve acted in the past...It all began about a month ago.”

Hanzo took a deep breath before he recounted everything from memory: his first meeting with Jesse McCree, their first dinner date, their first movie night...their first kiss. Hanzo saw no point in hiding the truth, especially after what lies have cost him already.

Both men pause when Jesse weakly moans and mutters something in Spanish. His fingers prod and scratch at the wires strapped onto his exposed chest, monitoring his vitals.

“Oi!” Gabe sends an irritated glance at McCree and snaps his fingers. “Don’t touch, mijo!”

“I don’t like ‘em,” McCree complains and ignores the man.

Hanzo stands and reaches for McCree’s hand, taking it gently between his own two. “Jesse, please don’t.”

Jesse pouts and for a moment, Hanzo thinks he’ll try to free his hand to keep scratching at the wires, but the goofy grin returns to his face. “I’ll be good, if...mmm...a kiss.”

Hanzo looks down at the cowboy’s lips and cringes. They’re still bloody from the accident and probably hurt. He lets his gaze wander across the other’s face to find a better spot and when he finds it, he slowly leans forward and lays a gentle kiss on Jesse’s forehead, near his temple.

“You should go back to sleep, Jesse. You need to rest.” Hanzo whispers.

“I don’t wanna…”

“Sleep, Jesse,” Gabe states, sounding more like a worried parent than a worried manager, as he watches the pair.

Jesse looks up at Hanzo and mumbles “Stay,” his hand squeezing Hanzo’s, making him look at Gabriel, silently asking permission.

“Alright,” Gabriel huffs, “but this talk ain’t over, Shimada.”

They watch as Gabriel takes his coat back and Hanzo swears he hears a quiet, “Take care of him.” before he’s gone.

Jesse pulls on his sleeve to get his attention and says “Bed…With me?”

It takes Hanzo several minutes to figure out what McCree wants from him: to lay on the bed together. He eyes the small hospital bed skeptically before placing one of the chairs next to McCree’s bed and laying his head on the other’s chest, making sure he won’t hurt Jesse or disconnect the wires.

Exhausted after such an eventful morning, Hanzo falls asleep to the sound of the heart monitor and Jesse’s breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The translations are :  
> -Stubborn Brother!  
> -Go sleep, my dear.  
> -Did it hurt...heaven...?  
> -Mmmm... I'm flying higher than a kite. I must be in heaven.... An angel.  
> -You damn child  
> -Don't make the angel leave, boss.  
> -I love him
> 
> We hope you liked this chapter !!


End file.
